Flight of Winter
by wolfsrainrules
Summary: Unbonded Omega Guide Holly Potter wasn't looking for trouble, Then again, she never is. HYDRA. The Winter Soldier. Or rather Alpha Sentinel Bucky Barnes, who should have been dead, but wasn't...Trouble certainly found her. (FemHarry. Cowritten with Northpeach, ABO/Sentinel-Guide fusion. I Will Face Canon and Walk Backwards into Hell- for both fandoms)
1. Chapter 1

Holly Lilliana Potter was _not_ pleased.

She'd only wanted to check in on the Dursleys. She didn't love them or even like them, they were not _pack_ but they were her blood. Her Aunt the only remaining link to her mother. Holly could _not_ leave them vulnerable. For her own sake if nothing else. And Dudley had been getting better.

So when she had finished seeing to the bodies of her ( _studentsfriends_ _ **onlychildren**_ ) classmates she staggered out of Hogwarts without a word. She knew a good chunk of the surviving Death Eaters had run, fleeing the site of the battle.

While there was no love lost between herself and the elder Dursleys, Dudley had been improving slowly. For the sake of him, for the glimmer of hope that they could be something like acknowledged family, maybe even _friends_ of a sort, Holly would at least _warn_ them. They needed to get out of the country with the Death Eaters running around looking for any link to herself to use as revenge. She would not sink to their level, nor would she leave them to face the tortures Death Eaters would visit upon them.

Even if being near the Dursleys made her sick. Being a Guide, and therefore able to _sense_ how much they had hated her when she was small, how much they _feared_ her, how unnatural they viewed her to be…Batair, the Spirit Guide of her Sentinel who had followed her for as long as she could remember, brushed against her legs, leaning his weight into her and providing comfort. She buried her hand into his thick but bedraggled fur- _(it was a sign wherever her Sentinel was he was not in good health)_ \- scratching at his ears absently.

The Dursleys were the reason Holly had such good _Occlumency_ shields. She'd had to learn block them out as much as she could. It was an instinctive response. One she no longer thought about- the moment any one of the relatives got within her natural sensing range, her shields went up. That she was an Omega Guide had only made it worse. Dudley and Vernon were both Alphas, and they had liked to trigger instinctive responses in her when she was a cub. It had lead to some very strong trust issues when it came to other Alphas which had intensified with Dumbledore. At least Snape had been a Beta, same as her Aunt. It would have been hell on her if he'd been able to use Command on her.

( _It was something she noticed during the last days of training her classmates. Those who were just a bit thinner, those with an edge of wary caution at enclosed spaces and those who looked at adults as if_ waiting _for the moment they settled into patterns they_ knew…

 _Well, you could always tell which ones had good shields out of_ necessity. _The main reason why Severus Snape's Occlumency was_ better _than Dumbledore's._ )

It was a blessing Holly had grown into such a powerful Omega. Most Alphas were not strong enough to use Command on her, even when they _wanted_ to, and her scent- interpreted differently by everyone she came across- tended to _intimidate_ other Alphas. Vernon and Dudley had quickly lost their ability to use Command on her as she'd grown. Her instinctive 'tuning out' of the Dursleys had also gotten better.

Which was most of the reason Holly didn't pick up on the plan until it was too late. Batair had been pacing, unseen to the Dursleys, but he had always done so when in this house or close to the family, so it was not an odd reaction. The rest of the reason being the aftermath of ending a war. She'd run off before her wounds had been looked at, taken off before the after effects of being on the run for _months_ , going straight into a literal warzone, taking a _killing curse_ to the chest and _coming back to life_ had kicked in. On top of the magical exhaustion that came with that package deal? She was _not_ at her best.

She knew as soon as she sat still, as soon as she let the wizarding world get ahold of her she'd be stuck. Stuck cleaning up the mess, being the face of the wizarding world, the face and being herded into whatever job they thought suited her best. Maybe that would be an Auror, perhaps an Unspeakable, even a Ministry worker. And maybe, the wizarding world would remember she was a _Guide_ and try to force her into the role of subservient puppet and baby maker to continue the Lines she had inherited now that they didn't need a _good little soldier_. Especially seeing as she was an _Omega_ Guide on top of everything else. Holly sneered.

( _On the run, she, Hermione and Ron entertained the idea that_ they _would be in charge. After all, Voldemort overthrew the government._ He _was the Ministry and if_ they _overthrew him, wouldn't that mean that_ they _would be in charge? Regardless, they were already tired by then and none of them wanted what would come with that much power. That much_ responsibility. _)_

Holly wasn't planning on sitting still long enough to find out. She was going to round up the runaway Death Eaters, take care of _that_ and then she was getting out of England. She didn't know where she was going to go, but _away_ from Britain was appealing.

But, before that, and for her own peace of mind, she _at least_ had to warn the Dursleys to run.

Which had lead her to _this._

 _Drip, drip, drip._

She leveled a hazy glare at the tube that was taking her blood, reminding herself that all of those samples and vials needed to be destroyed when she left. Basilisk venom and phoenix tears was not a good combination to leave in muggles hands, _never mind_ her magical blood or what could happen if a magical came across it at any point at all.

A vial of the Woman-Who-Conquers' blood, forcibly taken? She shuddered to even think about it.

Batair was _furious_ and snarling, but faded. She'd never seen him like that before, but considering how dimmed her Guide and Omega senses were, she was certain that had something to do with the IV that was pumping drugs into her. They weren't working like they should, she knew, as she _should_ be completely cut off from her senses and Spirit Guide rather than the dimmed awareness she had.

Holly wasn't sure if that had something to do with what the Basilisk Incident had added to her blood, or if her magic was reacting to it, or _both_. Regardless, she was thankful she could at least _see_ Batair even if he was unable to fully manifest or interact with anything. He was a comfort as he had always been to her. It was playing havoc with her inner calm that her senses were so _dull_ , on top of her ability as a Guide to pick up on emotions. It felt like Sense-Death and she _hated it_.

Next time she saw Vernon Dursley she was going to _punch him in the face_. As hard as she was physically able and- considering everything that she dealt with in these past years- her fist would have some force behind it. It was also a possibility that she would pull out her wand for some hexes instead.

Or both.

Actually, it would absolutely be _both._

She'd sat down for dinner with the family absolutely exhausted and on her very last legs. Truthfully, she wasn't comfortable doing so, but there was a hesitant kindness to Dudley and a timid hopefulness on his face. The way he looked at his parents was...surprising. But Holly was glad that Dudley had a chance to better himself. He'd even growled at his father when Vernon had attempted to Command her, despite knowing it wouldn't work anymore.

It had taken years and almost dying for him to understand the difference in the way his parents treated her compared to other families. She managed to muster up some pride in her cousin. He was growing up and it looked like he was already defying his parents in their continued hatred of her.

She'd eaten the food, and it turned out that whale of a bastard _drugged her_. She had _no idea_ with what, considering it had actually _worked_ , but she was _furious._ She could remember Batair _snarling_ as she went down, right before everything went black, as she'd stepped out of the house leaving her Aunt and cousin behind while Vernon escorted her out. She'd woken up before she was meant to, finding herself bound and gagged in the back of a van.

It was so cliche and she _hated it_. Especially since Thug One had _knocked her out via slamming her head into the van floor._

And here she was. Handed off like trash to some sort of Muggle Nazi organization without a second look or even the slightest bit of _hesitation._ Even considering her shields had been up, she can't believe she missed _this_. She had been in worse shape than she thought if this had been the results.

The only saving grace seemed to be that Vernon- and she _knew_ it was that bloated warthog-faced beached whale of a buffon- while he had handed her over to the highest bidder, had told those that captured her she was a _mutant freak_.

From what her casual and very limited use of _Legilimency_ could gather these men had _no idea_ she was a witch. She cursed her magical exhaustion. _Legilimency_ was a magic consuming art, and while Holly was a _very_ powerful witch she had her limits and had to be choosy about whose mind she took a peek in. She'd chosen the head Doctor's mind of course, and learned all about who and how they had 'acquired' her, what they thought she was, what the drugs should have done, and _who had sold her out_.

 _All she had wanted to do was_ _ **warn them**_.

And now she was a prisoner of some Neo-Nazi group who wanted to pull her apart, see how she ticked, and then put her back together for their own use. They were so _excited_ to have a Omega Guide in their midst- it was _disgusting_.

Batair prowled the edges of the room, almost rabid in appearance but it was obvious by the lack of reaction that no one could see him.

Which brought her to the reason she hadn't escaped. She was magically exhausted to a dangerous degree, but her magic, weak as it was for the moment, was acting up. It was why she'd taken a chance with the _Legilimency_ probes in the first place. It urged her to _search_ , surged and twisted under her skin, pulsing with her heartbeat and almost chanting _ImportantImportantImportant_ _ **PAYATTENTION**_ under her skin.

( _A part of her feared exactly_ _ **why**_ _her magic was acting up. If it was solely to her Guide abilities, or if defying death had more consequences then she realized._ )

On top of that, despite the drugs they had used to dim and repress her Guide abilities, and Omega senses, they were still active enough for her to know _something_ in the building was pulling at her. Not _painfully_ , but noticeable enough that she could pick out which direction and that the source wasn't very far away. And the fact that Batair kept looking at the door of the room like he wanted to _go_ somewhere specific- and not just escape- but refused to leave her by herself had her curious.

That didn't usually happen. The three facts combined meant Holly was _going_ to find the source of it all before she busted her way out.

She closed her eyes and breathed through the pain with practiced feigned ease.

Fucking _scientists_.

Still- she'd gotten some good news from the Head Doc, though he hadn't been aware of sharing it with her via mind reading. It appeared their Boss was visiting the building. It wasn't for _her_ , but to see to something the man referred to as 'The Asset' located deeper underground then herself.

 _Potential ally for escaping?_

The Doctor was absolutely certain that 'Mr. Pierce' would like to see his results. He planned to use what he had found on herself and the energy field she was naturally generating- _her magic_ \- to catapult his way up the social ladder. She wasn't going to argue with the Doc, as it would let her get into the mind of someone higher up on the food chain who had no idea he had to be wary of meeting her eyes.

 _(Let no one ever say Holly Potter didn't know how to take advantage of a situation. That war had taught her nothing.)_

 **LINEBREAK**

Holly wanted to be sick.

Pierce was a _despicable_ human being. She stared him in the eye, pulling more and _more_ secrets from the Beta without notice, and wanted him _dead._ She wasn't one to resort to murder but _this…_

What he had _done_. What he was _planning to do_ ….twenty _million people_ killed, because they would stand up to him? Because they were smart enough, _determined_ enough to be a threat to his 'new world order?'

 _Children. Cubs._

 _Like Teddy._

Her hands shook. _This_ man knew of magic. He didn't recognize her, but knew _of_ her. He thought her to be what Vernon had told them, thought her to be a mutant with useful abilities. He had _plans_ brewing in his head for herself, but she ignored those.

How many agents had he hidden away in the enclaves? What had he done in the name of his 'perfect world?'

Holly wasn't sure. She couldn't sort through everything, and her magic urged her to look deeper, to search for something _specific_.

So she dug. She was so _very_ careful as she dug further and further into this cesspit of a mind, hunting for the thoughts her magic urged her to find.

And then she goes still. Her mind latches onto what has her magic screeching under her skin. She shudders. Let Pierce think it is in fear and not with rage.

 _The Asset is a_ _ **man**_.

A _good_ man, a man this _creature_ had twisted and tortured until he no longer knew his own name. Until he no longer thought himself a man.

 _James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes._

A Sergeant in the _Howling Commandos._ One of the few groups of soldiers that were informed of magic and worked with witches and wizards.

Only, that wasn't what the man is called anymore.

 _The Asset._

 _The Winter Soldier._

She pulls harder at this festering pit of thought, tugging and searching and _praying this is it even though she knows it's not-_

And then she finds them, deep in this scum's mind.

The words. Russian words, words she can pull the meanings of from his very mind.

 _ **Activation codes. Shutdown words.**_

 _Желание (longing), ржaвый (rusted), Семнадцать (seventeen), Рассвет (daybreak), Печь (furnace), Девять (nine), добросердечный (benign), возвращение на родину (homecoming), один (one), грузовой вагон (freight car)._

She heaves, eyes bright with hatred and _intent_ as she stares Alexander Pierce in the eyes. She can see Batair- already large, coming up to her lower ribs- snarling in a way he never has, crouched in front of her defensively and his fur _bristling_ and making him look twice his already intimidating size. He snaps and lunges at this man who cannot see him and it has Holly's hackles up even more.

Holly Potter had been a kind child, even behind the instincts and lifestyle of a survivor. War had taught her rage, taught her _hardness_ , taught her when someone was beyond saving.

Alexander Pierce was one such being. He was a man who _truly_ believed in what he did. _Believed_ that twenty _**million**_ lives of those who could stop him were _expendable_. He treated his people like chess pieces, saw the world as his own to shape and mold and _change_ for the 'greater good.' He thought himself the king on a chess board. Would not ever stop, because he _believed_ he could make the world _better_ by doing what he was doing.

He could believe what he liked. A king was the weakest piece on the board, and Holly was a _queen_. Pierce didn't know it yet, but he had a rogue of the strongest piece in his game behind his lines, in reach of his own queen- in reach of James.

Her ' _saving people_ ' thing was still alive and well for those that deserved it, but she had a desire for _justice_ and _vengeance_ as well and _no one_ was leaving this place alive save for her and _the Asset._ Holly _would not_ leave Bucky Barnes behind, to suffer another day at the hands of this _filth_.

Best of all- Pierce had given her the words that would allow Holly to get Bucky to cooperate with her- to prevent another from taking him again.

She hated to use the words on him, but until she got him somewhere she could get help, she'd need to ensure he would follow her and _help_. That he would not turn against her, or listen to another Hydra agent for their flight from this place. She couldn't save him or help him if she was dead or if he fought her every step of the way. She'd have tried, but thankfully she wouldn't have to resort to knocking him out and toting him behind her.

She had her goal now, she just had to wait until this man left the room. She'd deal with him soon enough, but in her state she couldn't risk him seeing her as a threat yet, and especially couldn't risk that he would call in Bucky on her, or recognize her identity or that she had magic.

Peeling back her lips to showcase her teeth, she snarled, low and inhuman, at the man from her place strapped to the bed. He smirked at her assumed helplessness, and quick as a Seeker, she struck, invading his thoughts as easy as breathing. Connected to his mind via _Legilimency_ as she was, she could see how he thought she would be fun to break. How she reminded him of what his predecessor said _The Asset_ had been like before they _broke him_ -

 _(Holly was going to kill this man. He was worse than Voldemort.)_

She spit at his feet.

The backhand was worth it as a muscle spasmed in his jaw. Batair lunged for his throat and missed, fading through him, but she lifted her head to meet his eyes, not allowing a single change on her face beyond the involuntary reddening of her cheek. If he'd been closer she'd have spat _on_ him. She held her head high, staring him down even after he scoffed dismissively and turned to leave. She could sense her defiance made him uneasy- the look in her eyes- though he could not place _why_.

He was arrogant though. Confident in his victory. He overestimated his power and his ability to overcome her. Placed too much value on her status as a Guide and an Omega both. As if it made her _less._

In the dark, a smile curves her bloody lips.

 _Good._

 **LINEBREAK**

Holly held herself still, keeping her breathing even and slow in false sleep, her senses stretched as far as she could manage in her state. Her magic was used to strain and responded well considering the circumstances.

Fucking _drugs_.

She was patient. She made no sudden movements, kept her heartbeat at a steady pace and her eyes closed. She waited. She knew they were thawing the Soldier out now, that it would take a while before he was in working order. She pulled their plan from Pierce's mind before he left. They had an _assignment_ for him.

Such a _pity,_ as it seems that Bucky would never make it to that assignment. She'd be _interrupting._ It would be a tragedy, of course, that no one would make it out of the building. That an unexpected malfunction would cause an explosion big enough to kill everyone inside. Their Asset would be lost. A major blow to HYDRA's continued operations.

She'd have to make sure there were no other prisoners like herself and Bucky before hand of course, but that would be a simple matter with a creative bit of magic.

She was thankful in this case that she was so used to doing powerful acts of magic without a wand _and_ with little to no power left. Her magic was _dense_ on top of everything else, having adapted to require a fraction of the power others did. Being the sole magical anchor to blood wards- no matter how weak- had been a deadly dance between draining too much and working her 'magic muscles' so to speak until her magic had adapted to ensure its host's survival.

( _Especially considering the amount of healing that was required for her to survive her childhood in as good as health as she had been.)_

It allowed her to reach out, still faking sleep, and short out any technology in the room when the time came. She opened her eyes, sitting up and pulling the tubes and needles free. A quick twist of magic and fire bloomed, burning her blood and the computers holding the data collected from it into ash. She knew from the Doctor's mind that he had not backed the data up like he should have- he'd been worried someone would 'steal' his work if he did so, and now it would work to her advantage as there were no other records beyond what was here in this room, and what the Doctor had handwritten. Her blood samples were much the same, all stored in this room, and within easy range of her fire.

She'd take care of the handwritten things when she had Bucky.

In the meantime, she had a prisoner of war to liberate.

 **LINEBREAK**

Holly layered a subtle bit of magic over herself, making whoever looked her way see someone they thought should be where she was. It was a variant of _notice-me-not,_ one that Ginny had developed with the help of Fred and George. She couldn't help the smirk that came as she met the eyes of a soldier clad in black. He nodded in acknowledgement before she stepped past him. Bless the Weasleys in all their clever and brilliant glory.

So far her plan was working surprisingly well. She must be on the upswing of the infamous Potter Luck. Although that might change, at least she started out on a high note.

She strode with purpose through the halls, following mental map she had taken out of Pierce's head, alongside the subtle tug on her magic and Guide instincts. Batair stalked through the halls ahead of her, leading without hesitation, and still invisible to those around her as the drugs were still in her system. _(Though she'd have hidden the Grim Spirit in this case even without the drugs in her system.)_ She could hear the men cleaning the Soldier up as he went through the last stages of 'thawing'.

She moved without hesitation to the door, confident in her magic holding _(half of magic was_ belief _after all, and Holly_ knew _her magic would work)_ even in the face of so many.

Besides- in this particular case she knew _exactly_ who she wanted everyone in that room to see, _exactly_ who she needed to appear as to be obeyed without question. The only one who would see her as she actually was would be Bucky.

She opened the door, and as far as everyone in the room apart from Bucky was concerned, Alexander Pierce walked in. Her magic even ensured she carried a Beta scent to all but Bucky. She knew the man wouldn't be here, not yet, that he liked to _taunt_ the Soldier when he was fully thawed and aware, and so he was in his own rooms, unaware of her impersonation of his person. The lack of cameras in his room, and his penchant for using the 'secret' passageways through the base to remain off the cameras as much as possible was a boon.

No one would question Pierce suddenly appearing on screen form the angle she _knew_ a passageway opened, stepping into view on the camera. She knew he used the passageways to enter and leave his room as well, so that no one 'knew' where he was staying just in case.

Holly felt the vicious amusement well in her chest. He'd handed her everything she needed to make her magic convey him when he stared her down in an attempt to intimidate her.

She stepped up to Barnes, the scientists and doctors moving aside as she did so. He tracked her with alert blue eyes. She leaned down to his ear, much as Pierce liked to do, whispering softly as she provided the trigger words to him. She ignored the heavy scent of ice and cold and chemicals that muffled his core scent so intensely Holly could not place it. The only thing clear to her Omega senses was the fact that Bucky Barnes was an Alpha.

Sure enough, the Soldier straightened, icy eyes sharp and focused on her person as he provided the correct response-

" _готовы соблюдать._ "

-ready to comply.

She smiled to herself, even as fury twisted her expression into more of a barring of teeth than a show of amusement. Making sure not to touch him, she leaned closer, keeping her lips close to his ear, whispering to him while ensuring no one in the room could hear.

"Hydra is compromised, _soldat._ From this point forward no other handler may use your trigger words apart from myself, until I provide you verbal and willing permission to respond again alongside the activation phrase: ' _I solemnly swear I am up to no good'_. You will treat any use of these words without my permission as an attempt of an enemy to gain use of the Asset. This includes the man known as Alexander Pierce, as he is _compromised_."

Holly paused, watching as something flickered in the man's eyes.

"I am to be the only Handler acknowledged by the Asset until such time as I provide willing and verbal permission along with the pass phrase ' _Mischief Managed'_. If at any point I provide you permission without the use of those phrases, you are not to acknowledge the permission. You will restrain myself and retreat to a safehouse. Acknowledge, _soldat._ "

"Acknowledged."

Holly inwardly grimaced at the monotone response, but she sharply inclined her head. "Suit up _soldat_ , we have a mission."

"Acknowledged."

He stood and the doctors and scientists allowed it, unaware that Holly had just taken their queen off the board. She would bring him to help, but she would not make him go anywhere unarmed. She would not take his weapons, his _protection_ from him. She watched silently as he moved with a mechanical precision, eyes constantly scanning the room of 'compromised' agents on his way to his gear.

She turned away as he began to strip without care for modesty, only for the order she had provided.

"Leave us," she commanded the room at large. "This mission briefing is classified."

The doctors and scientists responded as she knew they would- a ' _Hail Hydra_ ' and instant compliance. Her lips pulled upwards, as the predator that had already cornered unknowing prey. She remained turned towards the door until the Soldier approached her side, staying slightly behind and to the side of her. She turned to face him, meeting the blank ice of his eyes and providing the 'mission briefing'.

"We will be leaving this base," she explains, meeting and holding his stare head on in a way she knew even Pierce could not do. "I will be enacting a ' _No Survivors_ ' protocol myself, _soldat._ Should you come across any Hydra agent that has touched you in a way that exceeded mission parameters, or participated in your training, in use of the Chair, you have permission to do as you please. You need not participate if you do not wish it, but regardless of your hand or mine, there will be _no survivors._ Do you understand?"

"Understood."

Something behind those glacial eyes flickered as he looked down at her. Holly held his eyes another moment before she turned away. She _**refused**_ to order him to fight with her, to _kill_ as he had been commanded so often. She _would not_ abuse the words that had given her command over a person. She would allow him what choice she could, provide him the option. If he found it therapeutic to help her then he could. If he did not want to kill another soul she would never make him.

Her goal was simply to get him somewhere he could get help.

Luckily, she knew exactly where to find a highly capable healer with guaranteed confidentiality and quality service.


	2. Chapter 2

The Asset was...unsure.

Assets were not supposed to have feelings, but this Handler was... _different._ Not even because she was the first Omega Handler that the Asset had been given as far as he was aware.

She had told the Asset that Hydra was compromised, and offered the Asset a _choice_.

No one else had ever done so. Had _discouraged_ choices, so much so that, should the Asset show a preference or hint of making them, he most often ended up in the Chair. The Asset _loathed_ the Chair.

Assets were not supposed to do that either. It was why the Asset allowed the use of the chair. It would be a simple matter to break the restraints no matter what the scientists believed.

Boudica loathed the chair too, the great griffin like creature being his spirit guide and _very_ not happy about what HYDRA were doing to him. She would scratch her talons into the floors, flare her wings and _shriek_ her displeasure, but she did not possess the strength to interfere. The Asset did not see Boudica often. He knew HYDRA gave him something that made it very difficult for her to manifest. The spirit was strong though and refused to be entirely taken away.

Still. This Handler had provided the full pass phrase, and so she was the Ultimate Authority. HYDRA was compromised, and she was _soldat's_ only Authority until she gave permission willingly for the Asset to listen to others. There would be no survivors left in their wake, and she had given the Asset permission to choose how to use his skills.

The Asset would choose to comply.

 _No Survivors Protocol initiated_.

The Handler turned and began to walk through the halls with purpose. The Asset followed behind her, eyes flicking through the halls, searching for targets. The Asset thought it strange that this Handler was clothed in a papery gown, much like the one the Asset had been changed into while thawing. Still- it was not an asset's place to question and so he would not.

He caught a glimpse of Boudica in the corner of his eye- speckled black and gray wings, her body an overall mix of soft gray and soot black - realizing that the scientists had been shooed out of the room before they had given him the shot that would suppress her. She was surprisingly calm in the face of this Handler. She seemed _pleased_ , which was not something The Asset had seen before. She walked calmly beside him, her eyes liquid and calm. She made no aggressive movements towards the Handler, did not flare her wings or snap her beak. He made no motion that he could see the spirit at all, just in case.

Almost as if the thought about how she was dressed had been a cue, the Asset watched as her gown shifted and changed into an almost leather-like armor. A thought tickled at the back of the Asset's mind, whispering about familiarity, that he had seen something like that before.

 _Magic-_ a voice the Asset rarely heard in his own head whispered. A voice the scientists tried to suppress, a voice that meant he would be visiting the Chair if it was mentioned. The Asset did not mention the voice. And the _soldat_ agreed. He knew of magic, and all the hassle it could provide during a mission in the hands of a skilled user. In this case it would only help in their _No Survivors Protocol_.

The Asset did not move quickly enough when they came across the first of their targets, a novel experience, as usually his Handlers were slow. The Handler lifted a hand and brought the targets to their knees, screaming. It was... _pleasant_ to see the Handler had not been lying when she said that she would be taking the Protocol on herself.

The Asset would always listen to his Handlers, but that did not mean that his Handlers were being truthful with the _soldat._ It was refreshing to see this Handler react without hesitation to follow through on what she had promised. In response the Asset moved to help, pulling one of his guns free and taking aim.

There were no missed shots. They had trained their weapon well.

 _(The Voice whispered about snipers and trees, the eyes in the sky, that he had always been skilled with a gun in his hands anyway)_

 **LINEBREAK**

People were screaming, fire blazed in different rooms, and the _soldat_ was... _pleased_.

That...was not an emotion the Asset was familiar with. And yet the Handler kept surprising him, kept triggering the emotion. The Asset found that he _liked_ this Handler. He had been nervous when she led him to the room that held the Chair, but she had not used it. No, this Handler had taken one look at it, snarled, and set it _on fire_.

The Asset had frozen in the door, watching a living wolf of flames snarl and lunge for the seat of the Chair. It loosened something in his chest when the Chair was left nothing but melted slag on the ground, and the Handler turned to look at him.

"The Chair will never be used on you again, _soldat,"_ his Handler declared over the screaming and the _snap, crackle_ of the spreading Asset wanted to shudder, the feeling of relief was so intense. Instead he remained still, but allowed a small relaxation in his body. The s _oldat_ was not sure she was being truthful, but she _had_ destroyed the Chair in front of him, and that lended a weight to her words. "Should anyway try to use a Chair on you again, you have permission to react as you wish."

The Asset shuddered, just a little. He could not stop it. _(Another failing in his programing-)_ He had recieved _permission_ from the Primary Handler. He would _never_ have to go back to a Chair. The Asset didn't think that HYDRA had another, but the fact that he _could_ react with the violence that bubbled in his chest when he was brought to the Chair if they _did-_

The Asset _liked_ this Handler. He hoped she stayed.

She had then proceeded to destroy everything in the room, taking down any target she came across with extreme prejudice. The Asset had been _gleeful_ to join in with the attack on these particular targets as he _remembered_ how pleased they had been to get him into the Chair.

 _Soldat_ followed behind this Handler easily, helping her to take down everyone they came carved a bloody swath through the underground base, leaving bodies and broken doors behind them, until they reached the door that was the entrance to the office of the head of HYDRA.

By then, there was only _one_ survivor left.

Alexander Pierce, former Priority Handler.

He was furious, and the _soldat_ could hear him saying the Words with a hard commanding tone. The Asset flickered his eyes to the new Handler and she subtly shook her head in the negative. The Asset stared Pierce down and refused to move. It was...strangely liberating to be able to ignore _those_ _words_ coming out of the man's mouth.

The Handler stepped in front of the Asset, presenting him her back, and shielding him from Pierce's view.

None of the other Handlers had done that either. None were so bold, nor so confident in their ability to keep him under control without the use of _force_. None had made a _protective_ move on his behalf.

She was a strange Handler.

" _You._ " The woman practically _snarled_ , her voice was hard in a way that had the Asset straightening to attention immediately as she stared Pierce down. "You are a disgusting human being, _filth_ of the highest degree. You've tortured a _good man_ until he does not even realize that he _is_ a person and not an 'it'. Not an 'Asset' to be used. You are plotting murder of over _twenty million_ people, have taken amusement and pleasure in corrupting and breaking people all over the world, always in the name of your _cause_. And I will not allow it. I'm cutting off _all_ your heads and I've brought my own fire."

The Handler does not allow former Priority Handler to speak. There is no warning, no hesitation. Her hand lifts, and with a twist of her wrist, Alexander Pierce loses the vaguely amused and perfectly composed expression he was wearing as he drops to his knees, mouth open in an agonized scream. His fingers were clawing at his arms, his face, leaving bloody tracks in his skin.

This death was not a quick one, like the others she had dealt out. For Pierce she held her hand up and wrist twisted, his pained shrieks echoing in the room until they sputtered out on their own. His body slumped, skin brightly red and faintly steaming from whatever the woman had inflicted on his previous Priority Handler.

The Asset did not ask what she had done, but his current Handler provided the information anyway. She waited until they were leaving the base behind them, the fire still burning and the ashes drifting on the wind.

"I cast a blood boiling curse on him. I figured it was an ironic justice considering how much he liked to have you frozen alive. I held it until his blood boiled out of his veins."

It was...nice, to know what she had done. That she had chosen to do it _for_ the Asset.

Some part of him, buried deep in the corners of his mind _(protected, shielded)_ , burst into hysterical laughter and the Asset could not help the way his lips twitched up, almost unconsciously.

 **LINEBREAK**

The Handler had turned to face him, once they were far from the base, her eyes becoming clearer- the Asset recognized the signs of drugs clearing out of her system- as she warned him "I have to transport us, but it is going to be unpleasant. It will feel like being squeezed in a straw, and likely make you nauseous. I'm sorry about that, but I'm taking us to help. Okay?"

The Asset had tensed subtly at the word 'unpleasant' but was surprised that the Handler had then explained what to expect. None of the others had done that. They had not apologized for it either. This Handler became stranger and stranger as time went on.

But she was waiting for an answer. She was waiting for him to make a _choice_ and to _voice it._

"The Asset will comply."

She approached him and paused before speaking softly, yet firmly, her eyes staring into his own.

"I will have to touch you to transport us both. Is that alright?" She held her hand out, open and inviting rather than reaching for the _soldat's_ person. The Asset was still for a moment before he reached out with his metal hand.

She didn't flinch. She knew the _soldat_ could crush her hands and wrists with that hand and still- unlike every other Handler the Asset had ever had- she allowed the Asset to reach for her with it.

And more than that, when she twisted on her heel and they disappeared from their place, the sensation was exactly what she had warned to expect.

She had not lied.

 **LINEBREAK**

The _zimniy soldat_ held himself still beside his Handler, eyes flying over the area around them and taking in all the visual clues. _London_ , he placed their location after a moment. Not too far from their previous location, a few towns over. They were hidden in an alleyway, and he watched his Handler waver on her feet for a moment. He reached out and steadied her without thought, acting to keep his Handler on her feet and healthy, as he shifted to shield her from the view of any hostile force.

"Thank you." Her voice was tired, and _soldat_ tilted his head in acknowledgement, even as he catalogued another strange thing from this Handler.

Gratitude was not something that anyone he had interacted with previously had shown the Asset no matter how well he preformed. The others went out of their way to find mistakes to punish the _soldat_ for, even where there had been none or it was not the fault of the _soldat._

"Come on," she waved a hand releasing the Asset and once again showing him her back. "We're not quite where we need to be yet, but I couldn't apparate directly to the location thanks to the wards around Diagon Alley."

 _Soldat_ fell into step with the Handler easily, even as he continued to scan his surroundings. She led the Asset to a dingy looking pub, a subtle twist of her magic changing her clothes again, draping a fine cloak in dark emerald shades over her shoulders. She pulled the fur lined hood up, tucking her hair into it and hiding her eyes before she held another, larger cloak out for the Asset, this one in deep shades of blue.

 _Soldat_ placed it on without question, pausing momentarily as warmth immediately began to emanate from the fabric, then pulling the hood up as she had done, pleased when his vision was not impeded nor his movement when he quickly checked with a series of exercises. She allowed this check, and then turned, strolling forward to lead him into the pub.

The moment they passed the entrance, the _soldat_ tensed, the hair along the back of his neck standing on end. He could _feel_ something…. _other_ , in the air.

 _Everywhere_.

His eyes flew over the pub, and the Asset stepped closer to his Handler. There were many acts of 'magic' happening around the two of them, people using it for the most asinine of reasons from stirring tea without touching the spoon, to hovering a book in front of their eyes so they could eat and read at the same time. Every little use of the magic pulled the Asset's attention in some way, like a trail of ice down his back. His senses rang with it, all five of them, trying to be pulled in multiple directions at once.

 _Soldat_ 's spine straightened and his shoulders tensed as they moved further in. He could not pick a place to look, trails of ice dragging his attention from place to place as the sensation was tracked. It felt like his senses were focusing in on that sensation, and then a spark of _warmth_ in the ice interrupted the spiral.

The Asset's eyes snapped to the source of the warmth and he met emerald eyes that peered at him from under the hood. It was surprising how quickly her touch had pulled the _soldat_ out of his zone. It usually took quite a bit of pain to manage, but all she had done was touch him.

That voice in his head, the one buried under survival instinct, made a wordless shocked noise.

"Easy, _soldat._ " She whispered to him, her voice low and throaty, soothing as she could manage, "I've got you. Focus on me. Breathe, nice and even."

She provided him an anchoring point, each pull of air into his lungs brought her core scent-bright warm notes of ginger and oranges under the sweat, smoke, blood, and chemicals she had obtained in the HYDRA base- to his nose. The bright point of warmth that was her hand holding his own flesh one kept him above the ice trying to grab his attention. The bright green of her eyes and the calm cadence of her voice kept his focus from drifting.

The _soldat_ found himself calming under her guidance, kept from zoning in on any particular point in the pub. Kept from lashing out in an attempt to stop the sensations.

Boudica settles next to him- clearer then she has ever been- soothed as the Asset is soothed. She still does not lash out at the Handler, has followed them both calmly until the Asset had felt the ice.

The voice in his head was making more awed and surprised noises, trying to pull the _soldat's_ attention to something, but the Asset would not pay attention to that yet- not when in a hostile unknown location with his Handler.

"Come, _soldat._ We are close to our destination." Her voice was still a soothing and calm note and he followed her from where he had frozen in the entrance way. When she realized that her voice soothed the _soldat_ , she simply continued to speak, providing past experiences of the locations they passed as she lead him towards the great crooked white building across the alley.

The Asset listens carefully, as she provides stories of her past-

"I was eleven, when I got mobbed by fans near the _Flourish and Blotts_. That was not fun let me tell you, I had no idea I was famous until earlier that day, and I did _not_ appreciate all the people trying to touch me or grab my attention-"

"I was twelve when I got pulled from the crowd and forced in front of crowd by a fraud- I was _not_ pleased. Even less so when it turned out the man was to be a teacher for my school that year. He had a fixation on myself due to my fame-"

"-and over here is where I ended up when I messed up using the floo. Did you know there are creatures down there that like to eat flesh? I'm really glad Hagrid showed up when he did-"

"-rather fond of this store here- it's where all the brooms are, and I _really_ love flying."

"-of course, during the war my trips down here were less fun. I _did_ end up impaled on the steps leading up to the bank that one time. I... _may_ have deserved that one. A little bit. I _did_ break into the bank, steal their security dragon and ride it through their roof, so I mean- I sort of earned that scar? Still!"

Something wells up from the ice in his chest as he watches the emotions painted across pale skin and the way the Handler used her hands to gesture in tune to her words. She doesn't even hesitate to provide information, details and there's something about this situation that rings in the back of his head. Something that makes the Voice whisper " _Little Punk."_

"They're a warrior race, and it was war, plus once I explained what I was doing there and paid for the damages everything was forgiven," a hand slashes through the air, waving dismissively before it pauses and then retreats to her own face, a finger tapping at her chin. "I think they actually respect me more than almost the entire population of magic users here, which is kind of flattering. It also helped that the vault I broke into at the time was _technically_ mine to begin with seeing as I _am_ the Lady Black, Duchess of Ravensmoor, and the previous owner of the vault- a member of the family- had killed its previous head and thus forfeited her rights to the vault to begin with making it mine."

-The soldier was not sure he appreciated the latter half of her stories, as she spoke of war and her place in it. It was instinct- almost buried under programming, but still present, and the Voice screaming _ProtectShieldKeepSafeDefend_ in his head- that had him near pressed against her back he was trailing her steps so closely. She allowed it and even pressed a hand to his arm, and that soothed something primal and _furious_ in him as he stepped up the very stairs she had spoken of before.

 _Soldat_ found himself sliding between her and any of the smaller beings she called a warrior race as they climbed. His eyes were hard and glacial under his hood as he followed the Handler up towards the teller desks. He listened as she provided her name- a fact he committed to memory immediately- and asked to see Steeljaw. The teller nodded and was quick- much quicker than the rest of the tellers were being with their customers he noticed- to step away from the desk and ask the two of them to follow him further into the bank.

The Asset followed behind his Handler shifting so she was on the side with his metal arm, in case he had to put it between her and any weapon that may be pulled free. She seemed relaxed, and _soldat_ knew she could protect herself, but still those instincts of his surged under his skin.

She sat down when the teller offered her a seat, and _soldat_ stood at the side of her chair, falling into parade rest without question. His hands stayed close to his hidden blades, but he did not pull them as there had been no hostile action. He kept his eyes moving from corners, entry ways and exits but most of his attention was on the Handler and any who ventured close.

They waited there for a few moments in silence, before the door opened and Holly- the Handler- stood greeting the small being clad in golds and whites, "May your gold flow like rivers, Healer Steeljaw."

"And may your enemies fall to your blade, Lady Potter-Black. Now what have you gotten yourself into that you require the aid of a goblin healer?"

The Asset listens as she insists on non-disclosure agreements and contracts being put into place before she speaks. The strange ice-down-the-spine feeling the _soldat_ now suspects to be the use of magic, swells and crawls along his skin, but the Handler relaxes.

She then proceeded to provide details about where she had been taken and what had been done to her. She uses words that the _soldat_ does not know but suspects to be of magical origin, before she reaches the part in her mission report where she met the Asset for the first time. She provides information the other Handlers would never have done, but the _soldat_ does not move, watching the goblin's eyes harden as the Handler continues.

Eventually she begins to wind down, and she asks, an edge of _force_ and hope in her voice, "Can you help him, Healer?"

The goblin straightens up, sharp teeth flashing as he snarls as though personally offended by any perceived doubts. "I will."

" _Thank you_ , Healer Steeljaw."

Steeljaw turns to her and his eyes narrow. The Asset shifts just a little, ready to interfere if needed, but his Handler is still calm and has not called for action from the Asset. "You will be seen to as well Lady Potter-Black."

She dips her head in acceptance and the Asset feels... _confused_.

She is going to be seen to by the same doctor who will be seeing to the Asset? She is still calm, her base scent unchanged with a spike in emotion.

 _Soldat_ tenses and shifts. He does not like the idea of the Handler being subjected to the same treatments the Asset remembers. As if she can sense it, the Handler stands and turns to face him. "It will not hurt, _soldat._ I promise. They will make you better, and it will not hurt. It will be like going to sleep, and when you awaken you will be healed."

The Asset does not remember the last time he had gone to sleep. The doctors usually froze him while he was awake, and then he was thawed and sent on missions where his other handlers liked to keep him awake. If he could not remain alert, he would be given stimulants until his use was no longer required.

But this Handler has not lied to the Asset before, and even if she had the Handler has spoken, has given the _soldat_ a mission and so-

"The Asset will comply."

Her face scrunches like his response is painful. "Would you like me to go first, so you can see what it is like?"

The Asset stills.

Again, she is offering him a choice. It is like nothing he has had before. He...is not sure how to take it. Still-

" _Da_." The affirmative scapes past his lips before he can stop it, and instead of punishment, his Handler smiles. As if _pleased._

"Alright. Can we begin now, Healer? I consent to his presence for my healing."

The goblin nods.

The Handler reaches back for him, and the Asset offers his flesh hand to her. She clasps it gently and leads him from the room, following behind the small healer she had brought him to see. They slide through multiple halls, going deeper and deeper into the maze of tunnels, through many doors before finally they reach a room that is warm and well lit with beds piled with furs but resting low to the ground.

He will not discover until after Holly has been healed on the sterile cots at the back of the room, that the beds with furs are actually sleeping places for those who are recovering from a healing rather than being healed. The beds are built so low to the ground so the goblins' larger patients are low enough that the goblin healers can reach them if anything happens without struggling.

He follows his Handler to the back of the room to the cots against the wall. Steeljaw reaches out to trace a claw over something on the leg and the cot rises higher until Holly can comfortably pull her cloak off and lay back on it. The moment she touches the cot, her clothes are shifted to something the Asset recognizes to be the goblin equivalent of a hospital gown. She is relaxed as the goblin trails a claw over the same place on the cot leg, and the bed lowers until it is a more comfortable height for the goblin healer.

 _Soldat_ is tense as he watches the proceedings carefully, but he listens as Holly, and then the goblin when he realized what Holly is doing, provide explanations for what Steeljaw is doing to her. She explains the potions the goblin feeds her taste horrible, but are not painful, as well as what they are meant to do to her.

Once more, she has not lied to him.

And when the healer turns to him, the Asset follows without complaint to the next bed over. He mimics what he had seen the Handler do, pulling the cloak free, and then laying back onto the raised cot. It works the same as it had for her, and he finds himself in the surprisingly comfortable and warm gown.

He listens as Steeljaw provides the information for what each potion he is handed will do, as well as if any of them will cause any sort of discomfort. Throughout the healing, his eyes continue to flick over to a comfortably sleeping Holly. The Asset stares at Steeljaw as the goblin frowns sharply at a report from one of the potions.

"You have many combinations of chemicals in your system." The healer speaks as he reads the parchment in his hands.

" _Da,_ " the Asset affirms. He knows better than to hide information from any doctor his Handlers bring him to see. "The previous Handlers said they were to help the Asset function as it was meant to."

There's a moment of stillness and then Steeljaw asks slowly, "Do you know what the drugs were meant to do?"

The Asset knows from his tone he expects a negative response. And the healer is right- the Asset does not know. "Negative. The Asset was not informed of their purpose, only that they were necessary."

"I cannot give you any potions to flush your system when we are unaware of what is in it. The common ingredient between the system-flush potions sometimes will react negatively with the chemicals that go into non-magical drugs. I'm afraid you will need to come off the drugs the slower way. There are some potions that can help soothe the effects as you are cared for, but it will still be a very unpleasant situation. Do I have your permission to explain all of this to Lady Potter when she awakens, as well as the effects that will come with it?"

The Asset is still. He knows the effects of someone coming off a drug, how some people react to them. His eyes flash to the Handler. She is still resting after her healing session, and the healer had warned him what was coming.

The Asset did not want anymore drugs in his system. It was another sign he was not functioning properly- Assets were not supposed to _want_ nor were they supposed to go against procedures that had been taking place for as long as the Asset could remember. Still- the Asset was sure this new Handler would want the drugs to be gone just as he did. And the Asset knows his Handler would like to know what had happened to him as well as how to deal with everything. He will give permission for it.

The Asst nods. "The Asset will comply. You will inform the Handler. Permission is required."

Steeljaw nods sharply. "Take this- it will put you to sleep as Lady Potter has been. It will also allow you to avoid the first stages of detoxing your body."

Steeljaw holds the potion out and watches as the Sentinel takes it quickly, laying himself down and allowing the potion to do its work. Once the potion comes into effect, Steeljaw snaps into motion.

His physical state was not the only thing Lady Potter had asked Steeljaw to take a look at, and Steeljaw has never failed an employer- especially one as prestigious as his client- in his long career with Gringotts.

Steeljaw begins to bring in other goblin healers, sworn to secrecy contracts that specialize in mind arts now that the man Holly Potter called James Barnes is asleep and able to be worked on.

He snarls to himself as the damage is revealed to be extensive. It will require multiple sessions, but it will be seen to.

Steeljaw had given his word to Lady Potter-Black, and this man- from what they could see of his memories- was a warrior worthy of respect. Truly whatever end she dealt to those who made this man, he hopes it was _slow_ and _agony._


	3. Chapter 3

Holly woke abruptly, her body already in motion before she even registered what set her off. Rolling up, legs braced and lips pulled back from her teeth in warning, magic swirling dangerous beneath her skin. By the time her feet hit the ground, she needed only a moment to realize that she was the Horde's healing chambers.

She relaxed a bit, straightening up and allowing her lips to fall back into a thin line as she scanned the area automatically anyway. Constant vigilance, after all.

Steeljaw stood waiting at the foot of the cot she had been placed upon and she frowns. His face is not a pleased one. Something is wrong.

Dread rises in her chest and Holly pauses a moment, before she steps quickly to the healer's side and questions swiftly, "What happened?"

"Your Sergeant will need to detox. He is unaware of what has been put into his system, only that there are many things. Even with magical means, we may not pick up on _everything_ due to its non-magical origin, which means we can't use magic to detox him the quick and easy way. On top of that- some of the drugs we _did_ manage to pick up on react badly with the powdered unicorn horn that goes into the potions."

Steeljaw glanced over to the sleeping form of Bucky Barnes, disapproval and disgust curling his words. The witch certain understood his feelings on the humans that did this to a honorable warrior. "It will not be pleasant. Once he is detoxed, he will still be at risk for relapses, and side effects where his body will crave whatever blends of chemicals he had been exposed to."

Holly listens as Steeljaw lays out certain ways Bucky may or may not react to that craving. Even if he doesn't _want_ the drugs in his body, even if he never did, he had spent seventy years with the drugs being pumped into his body all the same. It was blessing that magic- while it could not flush his system clear- would be able to help with the aftereffects.

When Steeljaw finishes laying out exactly what the next few months worth of recovery would be like, as well as any relapses that could hit the Alpha's body even after that for a while yet, Holly finds herself sitting beside the man. He does not sleep peacefully and likely, he won't for quite some time. However, she is bound and determined that she _will_ help him through this. No one deserved what had happened to him, and Holly _will_ be the anchor he needs while he recovers. She wished she'd had the time to make those who had hurt him suffer more for it. Listening to the bare minimum of what they had done to him only made her angrier than she had already been.

She can do nothing less than be the anchor he needs, be the grounding force for him in this.

And the entire time, her magic continues to chant under her skin: _ImportantImportantImportant_.

 **LINEBREAK**

Winter eases himself into consciousness. It is the first time his body does not _burn_ from the withdraw as he came off the drugs. He keeps his body relaxed and his breathing even.

 _(He's done this before, don't let them know you're_ awake _, don't let them know how resistant you are to the drugs-)_

It's slower than normal, but there's no disorientation, no fog clouding his mind and dulling his senses. It's different than the other times. He feels more…. _aware_ than he has in a very, very long time.

His senses stretch out, searching, cataloging, everything that he could use to alert himself to the situation.

He can feel furs against his skin, the echoes of movement tell him the room is large, there's a strange _earthy_ scent in the air, like dark rich soil with metallic overtones. Beyond that scent he can pick up herbs and the particular scent that comes with _clean_ , even though it's missing the antiseptic sting to his nose.

And then, bright and clean and _attention grabbing_ he pulls in a lungful of ginger-and-oranges.

Memories stir- a little woman with jewel-tone eyes, who was dressed like a prisoner of HYDRA. One who walked into his holding room and gave him trigger words, who walked out of that base with the Winter Soldier, _with him._ A woman who had provided him choices, who gave him the order he needed to ignore when his Words were spoken by the Primary Handler- _Alexander Pierce_ who she had killed on his behalf, blood boiling as it burned him up from the inside.

A vicious curl of pleasure snakes through his stomach. The man is dead. He could never order Winter to murder another soul. And this little woman had taken him to help. He had flashes of her over time as his body came down from the drugs in his system. He remembered her voice and touch, her scent, remembered her soothing him through the shakes and the sickness.

Winter knows she did, he can feel the _Other_ in his mind stirring and groggy no longer layered behind so many protections, no longer repressed under agony and the Chair. The walls that had separated them are being torn down. They are not gone, not yet, but the walls are falling.

He opens his eyes a sliver, taking in visual cues. The earthy-metallic scent belongs to the small creatures- goblins- that the new Primary Handler had brought him to see, he's laying in their healing chambers. They've placed him on one of the recovery beds, the ones with the furs he had noticed upon entering. Boudica is present and calm at the foot of the bed. Her gray wings with neatly groomed feathers relaxed, and legs folded neatly under her.

And then-

 _There._

There she is, the woman who had saved him, laying a few beds over and curled in her own personal recovery bed. The source of ginger-orange. He's light on his feet as he slides from the bed, carefully approaching the woman- Holly, he remembered- before stopping at her side,

The Other in his head leans forward, shaking the grogginess away as Other takes in the same cues that Winter is pulling in. He can sense the shocked awe in the Other swelling, the urge to _touch_ , to reach out and make sure she is real, that she will not shatter into a thousand pieces if he allows himself to reach out. That she really _had_ gotten them out. That she _had_ gotten them help.

Winter obeys the urge. His flesh hand is slow and careful as he reaches out to place it on her shoulder. She's solid and warm under his hand. Her heartbeat is steady under his fingers.

The Other makes an odd choked noise in his head, as if the air has been knocked free of his chest. Winter can feel the phantom sensation of it as he stares unblinking at the woman.

She is…

 _Important._

Beyond that she had made herself Primary Handler. She is important as _Holly._

The Other agrees, though they are not sure _how_ yet.

A noise behind him sets Winter on alert, and without thinking about it, he finds himself crouched protectively over the low bed, shielding as much of the lady as he can, lips pulled back in a snarl, a low threatening rumble vibrating up his chest and at the unknown in sight.

He finds himself looking down at an unimpressed Steeljaw.

The Other growls, low in his head, not wanting to move from his protective crouch.

"Sentinel Barnes, we will not be harming Lady Potter, please step down." Steeljaw's voice was firm and steady as he met Winter's eyes evenly. No lie-scent comes from him.

Winter gave no visible reaction to the name the healer had used, but it still felt like a jolt to his system to hear it. Especially when he found the Other in his head _reacted_ to it. A sudden sense of _recognition_.

Of _identity_.

" _That's my name. Sergeant James Barnes, Bucky."_

Winter relaxed a little. He remembered this goblin had helped Holly and himself, that Holly had trusted him enough to bring herself and Winter to his side for healing. He slid back carefully, revealing the still unconscious form of Holly from under his protection. Winter made sure he was in between her body and the doors, but he allowed Steeljaw to approach, icy eyes staring at the goblin in warning all the same.

The goblin held his stare.

It was a point in the little being's favor.

 **LINEBREAK**

Holly eases into consciousness.

It takes her a moment to place that as _strange_. She's never eased her way into wakefulness, never been allowed, nor felt _safe_ enough to be slow about coming into full awareness. Not even in the heart of the Horde, placed in their healing cave with some of their finest wards in place. Recently, as Bucky came down off the drugs, she had been waking abruptly and with worry at the forefront of her mind.

Steeljaw had actually fed her sleeping potions so she would sleep after the last reaction Bucky had had to the detox. His body _really_ hadn't taken kindly to clearing seventy years worth of repeated drug use out of his system.

And yet every inhale brings the scent of woodsmoke and apples and the metallic-soil smell of goblin to her nose. She pulled in a deeper breath, almost involuntarily to the scent the Alpha was putting off now that the scent suppressors had worn off.

Crisp fresh apples, the likes of which she had stolen from Number Two's backyard on really bad weeks. Ripe and succulent and juicy, apples that had saved her life, kept her from starving even if they hadn't had the proper nutrients a growing child needed.

 _(She knows now that it was accidental magic that made the trees bloom and grow the apples she needed even out of season)_

Combined with the scent of woodsmoke, the likes of which she associated with warmth and safety from her cupboard and it was a lovely _soothing_ scent. The Dursleys had liked to burn a wood fire in winter to be an 'idyllic' family around Christmas, and it had been one of the very few things that had kept her properly _warm_ in her cupboard when the temperature dropped.

She purred low in her chest, snuggling down into the furs around her, and eased her way into being functionally awake. She stretched out, feeling content and pleased. Something rumbled back and she couldn't find it in herself to be alarmed. Really, she was exhausted from _everything_ and sleep was a complicated matter. This was…. This was _nice._

"Lady Potter?"

She hummed questioningly, her eyes still closed as she snuggled into the soft, warm furs.

"If you could inform Sentinel Barnes that we have not forced you into an unnatural and prolonged state of unconsciousness, I would appreciate it."

It was like an electric jolt straight to her adrenaline as she jerked upwards, eyes flying open as she searched the room. Healer Steeljaw stood at the foot of her bed, the hulking and _dangerous_ form of Sergeant Barnes crouched defensively in between her bed and the goblin.

Seeing as the healer had referred to the man by his name, she assumes the first treatment had gone into effect. She can use his name.

"It's alright, Bucky." Her voice is soothing and low. She releases her hold on her Omega pheromones, not pushing them on the Alpha, but _offering_ them as a source of calm. "They haven't drugged me. The dose they use to put me to sleep has to be stronger than most due to what's in my blood."

Phoenix tears and basilisk venom tended to force her to burn through the normal healing potions too quickly for them to do any good if they even worked in the first place. It was why she went to the goblins for her potions supplies if she didn't make them herself- they had potions that humans _didn't_. Potions that worked.

"I'm alright. I slept so deeply due to this requirement. I have not been harmed. Nor was it done to subdue me."

She sees his shoulders relax a smidgen, and he eases his way backwards, closer to her- the smell of woodsmoke and apples gets stronger- and he slowly stands upright.

"You have a powerful defender, Lady Potter."

Steeljaw's voice is so dry, Holly _knows,_ immediately, that Bucky had done _something._

It's with a hint of trepidation that she pulls her eyes away from directly in front of her, away from the goblin and man who had been having a stare down.

The room is a _mess_.

The cots remain untouched, but the healing beds have been flipped and thrown, furs gathered and used to make a small nest beside her bed. Her bed and the medical supplies are the only other untouched things in the healing ward, and even then Bucky had moved the supplies _behind_ himself so that the goblins would have to go through him to get to them.

She suspects the reason magic was not involved in the mess, was the knowledge that Bucky would have gone from _defensive_ to _violent_. The unconscious goblins on the cots at the back of the healing area are proof that he had fought to defend her, but the fact they are _there_ means he did not kill them. He wouldn't have missed and given the healers a chance to save them if he had been aiming to kill them. Her stomach drops.

" _Sweet Morgana."_

On one hand, her security and protection are ensured and Sergeant Barnes seems to be responding well to her, but on the other hand, _he fought and overpowered goblins on their sovereign soil._ She's still unsure as to all their cultural differences but the only conscious goblin doesn't _look_ angry or such. Even so, politeness as she knows it is also the way to go when dealing with goblins.

"I apologize, Healer Steeljaw, I shall help you set the room to rights."

Steeljaw flashes her a grin, teeth showing, and Holly waits for permission or her offer to be refused. That baring of teeth is either of anger or amusement and it will decide her next actions.

"Oh, do not concern yourself, Lady Potter. We should have seen the reaction coming, having administered healing to his mind so recently, especially with you injured and unable to protect yourself in his presence. I am rather pleased myself, that he took Healer Ironclaw down so easily. It was certainly a sight to behold. Although, the-"

The globin briefly dissolves into his own language, and although Holly cannot understand it, she knows how it sounds when a goblin insults and praises someone at the same time. This one seems to require much more malicious undertones than the English language is entirely incapable of, even if there is a vicious admiration edging his voice.

"-needs to learn that _**I**_ am your Healer and no others are permitted to look at you without both your and my own permission. That he reacted defensively, and did not kill any who entered this room is a credit to Sentinel Barnes himself, considering his past and what his first instinct likely _is_ thanks to that past. He is an exemplary warrior."

That...was a _fine_ complement thought Bucky probably didn't realize how much of one.

She dipped her head in acknowledgement, the barest hints of a smile stealing over her face. "I thank you, Healer Steeljaw."

"Of course, Lady Potter. May I approach to check you over?"

She nods, offering a verbal reply for the Sentinel, who hasn't taken his eyes off the goblin. "Yes, Healer Steeljaw, you may."

She watches as James works his way backwards again, to the head of her bed, where he hovers and tracks the goblin's every move. She is soothed by his presence and the strong scent of apples and woodsmoke that floats around her head, though she cannot place _why_ she is so comfortable even associating his scent with happier times for herself.

 **LINEBREAK**

It had taken Bar-Buc- _Asset-_ **it** -him- _James_ a few days to place it.

Winter had noticed that Holly was _still_ unconscious despite her taking the 'potions' just before he had awakened. Jam-Wint-the Asset- had memories of her being aware and awake during his more lucid moments as he came off the drugs, but she was not now. Had not been since they had awoken. At first they thought maybe it was the fact that they had the botched Serum in their system. Even incomplete as it was, it still made Winter- _James-_ _ **them**_... _more_. Made them heal quicker, burn through drugs faster, and Winter allowed that it _could_ be that they were enhanced and she was _not_ that had them awakening before the Handler.

Day two of her being unresponsive had him twitchy. Winter paced in his head, and James agreed that they would watch over Holly carefully. Steeljaw came and went, told him of the doll's progress, and it soothed him a bit, even as Winter whispered they could be lying.

The third day was where Jam- _Bucky_ began to agree. Where Winter-Bucky- _they-_ _wondered_. The only explanation he could come up with was that the goblins were _drugging_ her. Why wasn't she _awake_ yet? Even normal humans should have burned out a drug by day three...unless it had been administered again, before she could shake it off.

Winter remembered- _they_ remembered- the Handlers having done the same to him while transporting him from place to place.

Could they want the Asset? Did they take Holly down because he had identified her as Priority Handler? Had they removed her voice and presence after he had been soothed from the detox process? Winter knew that Peirce had agents in the enclaves. He'd been sent in for assignments before. Bucky sneered and Winter _snarled_.

 _They would not allow it._

It was a simple matter to approach the medicines that had been used and move them. It felt like something was trying to force him away from the potions, that ice trailing over his spine, but they would not allow their mission to be compromised. They powered through it, one or the other pulling their attention back to the case when it wanted to wander, gripping the cases and lifting them easily to take them behind Holly's bed.

He pulled the furs from the surrounding beds and built himself a small nest, settling between the door and Holly as he waited. The goblins would come back and _they_ would be waiting.

It was pure happenstance that had the goblin healer Ironclaw coming into the room hours later. Winter had informed the goblin that he _would not_ be touching Holly, or giving her _anything_ before she was awake to okay it. He'd taken offense to it of course, and tried to fight Winter on it.

Winter won.

He won again when a small group of warriors came afterwards to see what the noise was about, even if most of the room had been destroyed by the resulting skirmish. Bucky and Winter had been in agreement that Holly's bed was not to be disturbed, and so she sat in the eye of the storm, untouched.

Steeljaw had been the next goblin sent in, and he took one look at Winter crouched protectively in front of Holly's bed and the door, the entire squad of unconscious goblin warriors, and Healer Ironclaw having been thrown clear across the room when he refused to take _no_ for an answer.

Steeljaw had laughed. That pointy-eared bastard.

More than that, he had not approached Holly, instead taking all the unconscious goblins and bringing them back to the cots where they had been placed. He'd nodded at Winter and informed them-

" _Lady Potter is in no danger, nor should she need any other potions. You may shield her until she wakes, if you wish."_

Winter had rumbled in return, low and threatening.

"If you have drugged her, I will cut your head from your shoulders."

They weren't sure _how_ they felt about Holly yet, but they were _drawn_ to her in a way that felt _right_ to their senses, and she had been the one to save them, to offer them choices, _and_ she had began to give Bucky back his sense of self. They would see her well so long as she kept their trust.

Another laugh, and Steeljaw had given him a pleased flash of teeth. " _Excellent._ Lady Potter needs more defenders that would kill her enemies on her behalf. I see her often enough to know she is hesitant to kill, save but the vilest of monsters."

Winter rumbled low and threatening and Bucky spoke with him when he answered fiercely, "We will not allow her to come to harm."

The goblin had pinned dark eyes on his own ice before the smile widened, a pleased threatening look in his eyes when he snarled back.

" _Good."_

And so here Bucky stood, at the head of Holly's resting place, watching the goblin healer approach after receiving permission. He allowed it, but let his eyes convey his warning to the goblin in place of words. There was a glint of respect in dark eyes as the healer nodded and moved to look over the dame who had saved him.

He wondered what had been done to her, that made it so she needed something stronger than the norm to knock her out. Winter growled, and Buck agreed with the sentiment.

If it had been anything like their own experience…if she had an organization like HYDRA coming after her...

Well.

Bucky shifted, keeping his senses open to his surroundings. He had a very particular set of skills, and it would only be fair to return the favor she had bestowed upon them by extracting them from HYDRA.

 **LINEBREAK**

Holly stood beside the Alpha Sentinel she had saved, and discretely pulled in the scent of woodsmoke and apples. It was….slightly disconcerting how often she felt herself lean over into his personal space to breath in the scent of him. He did not seem to mind, only adjusting his posture to curl more easily around her presence. It was... _pleasing_. Although Holly was not going into those lines of thought at the moment before there were _other_ more _important_ matters.

Such as staring down at the Horde's King, even as Ragnarok met her eyes easily. She knew it would be a sign of weakness to glance away from him, and she held his gaze. She had done the same to Voldemort and that Hungarian Horntail so a Goblin King, an honorable warrior wasn't something that frightened her.

When the King smirked a little and turned from her, beckoning the two of the forward, Holly knew she had passed that silent test.

"We were preparing to go out and retrieve you, Lady Potter-Black," the goblin's voice was deep and raspy. "As your cousin realized something was wrong when you did not alert him you had returned home as agreed. He came before us and asked for our aid."

Holly's steps stuttered in her surprise, her eyes widening beyond her ability to control as her tongue slipped and she practically demanded.

"He _what?_ "

Ragnarok glanced at her, and repeated himself easily, with a grin that implied more than amusement at her expense.

"Dudley Dursley approached the Horde for help locating you. He confessed that while he had no evidence for what happened- he _suspected_ , rather strongly, that his father had done something to you. He explained your previous arrangements, and that he thought it odd his father did not protest your presence more vehemently. When you did not respond as you had agreed, after his father escorted you from the house, he correctly took appropriate measures to locate you. When such failed, he came _here_."

Holly stared over the goblin's head, shock spreading through her bones. She had not expected Dudley to react to that promise, or to seek help if she did not answer. He'd acted _against_ his family for her sake. She'd known he was changing, that he hated what they had done, that he'd been trying to be different, but…

He'd gone to the alley for her.

Dudley talked to the _Horde_ for her.

Had faced everything his family had taught him to hate. Everything he'd been taught was ' _freakish_ ' and ' _unnatural_.' He had done so, for _her._

"Such actions proved unnecessary, as you returned to us under your own power." Ragnarok flashed his teeth in a pleased grin. "You are, as you have always been, an exemplary warrior, Lady Potter."

Holly, without missing a beat, bowed her head in his direction while holding eye contact, and spoke, "Thank you Your Grace."

The King waved a clawed hand in acceptance and still she followed him until they came to his office. He motioned towards the chairs and Holly took one while Bucky stood behind and to the side of it. She did not begrudge him the choice, and neither did Ragnarok.

"You seek permission to use a portkey behind our wards, so that you may transport yourself and Sentinel Barnes to our healing chamber no matter where you go from here."

The King's voice was calm and to the point. It was a mark of respect that a goblin- much less the _King_ \- did not tangle their interaction with stalling tactics, double meanings, and delaying paperwork.

Holly returned the favor, keeping her voice calm and certain when she replied "I would, your Grace. The healing is not complete, but to stay within the boundaries of a wizard market, even behind the wards of the Horde would be foolish on my part. It is my wish to travel, but be able to return here for our appointments without any wizard being aware of where we are going or have been. In order to do that, I need the expertise of the Horde."

Another flash of teeth.

"You will have it, Lady Potter. We will pull the funds directly from your vaults. You may gather the supplies you asked for beforehand from Teller Goldclaw. May your gold flow like rivers, Lady Potter."

"And may your enemies fall swiftly to your blade, Ragnarok, King of the Horde."

 **LINEBREAK**

They had spent some time in the room with the goblin's King, but in the end Holly had an agreement.

Her first stop would be Teller Goldclaw for all the documents she needed for James. It wouldn't do for him to not exist in the world's records after all. The second would be the trunk shop. She knew the owner had specially enchanted duffle bags that would work to sort and hold anything Bucky may have needed. She would be getting one for herself as well- a duffle was less attention grabbing than a trunk. She also wouldn't mind stocking up on her potions supply and various other odds and ends while she was here.

She blessed the fact her cloaks worked to hide their identities from view. She'd have to be quick as possible anyway, as it was entirely possible someone would pick up on traces of her magic or have a way to track her now that she was in the English Enclave's borders again. It was a boon that it was so soon after the war- many others strode quickly through the alley itself with hoods and cloaks of their own. They did not stick out in the crowd.

She lead Bucky easily through the crowds- which were present but nowhere near normal capacity thanks to the lingering effects of the war on Diagon Alley. She went straight to the counter and rattled off what she needed to the owner. He didn't bother to argue, as she knew what she was talking about and it showed in her manner.

Soon enough she had two duffle bags- one dark blue and the other dark green to match their cloaks- and paid without complaint and a quick thank you. She strode out of the shop and headed towards the potions shop. She whispered a quick warning to Buck about her impending use of magic, and when she had the okay, twisted her hand so that the scents would be filtered. Their Omega and Alpha noses would have _burned_ with the mix of scents at full blast. Her charm only filtered it, so that while they could still smell everything it was not so powerfully as to be painful.

Holly rushed through her other purchases, but not so quickly that it pulled attention to the two of them. She needed to stay in Britain for the moment, figure out where the runaway Death Eaters had fled, and Bucky needed the healing and anonymity the Horde could provide.

After that...after that, all of the world would be waiting for her.

 **LINEBREAK**

Winter and Bucky both agreed that they prefered this Omega Guide over their other Handlers. She _had_ his Words and yet she never used them. She never phrased anything as an order. She made _certain_ that they both- Winter and Bucky- knew that they had a _choice_. She told them she was not a Handler, as they were their own person, and they could call her Holly.

She fed him regularly, and as soon as she figured out his enhanced body meant he needed more food then a regular human, she upped his intake without complaint. She provided him with his weapons, never made him walk around without them, and she had given him a thorough tour of the house.

She went with him to every healing session and promised to look after him.

She never lied about that- she walked him through what each potion did, and she was _always_ there when he opened his eyes. Any time he had problems from the detoxing, any relapses, or surges in problems, she was _there_. Steady, constant, _true_ , and _comforting_.

Bucky and Winter _both_ appreciated it more than they could say. As far as they could tell, Holly never lied to them at _all_. She'd tell them she didn't want to talk about something, but she never danced around something, or made up lies about it.

The Handler was gentle, even when Bucky and Winter tested the limits. Carefully and in a variety of ways, but they _tested them._ They _had_ to, it burned at them both, sunk its claws into their mind and chest. They _had_ to know what she would do- how she would _react_ \- if Bucky or Winter refused to listen, or follow orders. What would happen when she was angry, what was her first response, her first thought?

It was _understanding_ , it was calm, it was a soft voice, soothing, comfort and curiosity. She acted to fix or explain where it was needed.

She warned him about the dangers of her home, and he was allowed free reign.

No one had _ever_ trusted the Asset with free reign of _anything_.

And she was continuing to take them to healers. To _cleanse_ their body and repair _damages to their mind._ She was giving them the pieces they needed to bring their shattered parts together again. Maybe not into a full picture of what had been, once, but still. She was helping Winter and Bucky to bring those pieces together into something _beautiful_ for all that it had been broken, something _whole_ and functioning and _thinking_. She was helping them to be a _person_ again, and not a _thing._

Even when they _knew_ she was doing something important. They weren't sure what it was- she'd told them she had some loose ends to tie up, and she didn't want to talk about where those loose ends came from. She always came back from those 'missions' of hers with a liquid sort of grace that Winter recognized, with a certain _tired_ but _determined_ look that Bucky did.

It soothed them both that she did not ask nor order them to follow her on her missions. They knew her missions were for tracking and elimination, that she _could_ have called on them to do the dirty work she was taking on her own.

They would have done so. If she had asked for help, they would have gone.

But she did not.

And strangely...strangely it was her utter _lack_ of motivation, of _drive_ , to use the skills that Bucky had gained in Winter to her advantage. The skills so honed in them, courtesy of HYDRA, those that made the both of them…

It made the both of them think it wouldn't be so bad to _use_ those skills of theirs for her.

 _For only her._


	4. Chapter 4

Holly stood in front of Steeljaw, a pleased grin pulling at her lips.

Bucky was as healed- as much as magic was capable of in his condition. The rest would be up to the Alpha himself. Steeljaw assured them both that the triggers had been disposed of, and even should Holly have given permission for anyone to use them, or spoke them aloud herself, they would not work. They were assured that the triggers Holly _hadn't_ known about had been handled as well.

Holly would never give permission anyway, because she knew it soothed something in Bucky to know that ' _just in case_ ' measure was in place. She had no plans to use them herself either. Even thinking about using such means to force someone under her or someone else's control disgusted her.

The drugs in his system were mostly gone as well. The weeks of withdraw and the effects that came with it had been hell on both of them. There were still trace amounts, and Bucky still had _moments_ where his body rebelled, but for the most part, the goblins and Holly herself had worked together to get his system clear. It had been a bonding experience, the weeks of Holly curling into Bucky's side, running a hand over his shoulders, face and hair, wiping his mouth and body down with a cool cloth. Of talking him through the shaking and seizing his body went though, keeping him calm as his body betrayed his control. Of waking up every single time he needed her no matter the time or what she had been doing before. Of _proving_ that he had choices with her and she would be there for him no matter what.

Any time.

She could smell the joy on him as the Alpha's base scent of woodsmoke and apples shifted to woodsmoke and chocolate. She knew he would smell her joy as well and she dipped into a deeper bow than necessarily required, to voice her gratitude to the goblin, her words soft and genuine.

" _Thank you_ , Healer Steeljaw."

Steeljaw lifted his chin, eyes shining in pleasure at a challenging job well done, as he nodded sharply.

"You are welcome, Lady Potter. I wish you the blessings of-" his voice was warm as he listed the name of one of the goblin hunting Gods in his own language- "on your hunt for your enemies. May they fall swiftly to your blade."

"And may your gold swell and flow as the rivers, Healer Steeljaw."

She had succeeded in driving all the remaining Death Eaters she could find out of Britain if she had not taken them in already.

It would be time to travel after them.

She turned to face Bucky, straightening and meeting his clear eyes. They were softer when he looked at her then they had once been, when she had first broke him out of his prison. More alive, alert, _aware_ in a way they had been lacking.

She purred with pleasure that she had helped him. Batair stood at her hip, his coat still ruffled and duller then she liked but nowhere near as bedraggled as it had once been. She wondered what had changed for her Sentinel while she was busy with her own mess.

"What would you like to do now, Buck?"

He blinked at her a hint of confusion in his eyes.

Holly smiled a little, her purr still a soft background noise as she explained patiently.

"I only ever wanted to help you. You are not my prisoner. Not an Asset to be kept. Your healing is as complete as I can make it with my methods, everything after this will be something you must see done in time. I will not hold you to my side as HYDRA had done- you are free to do as you wish. I will see that you get whatever that is"

She did not want him to go. She enjoyed his company, and wanted to keep helping him through his recovery, but she _refused_ to make him feel trapped or obligated. She had been there done that, and he had had it done to him enough for multiple lifetimes.

It _had_ to be his choice, not only for him, but for _Holly's_ sake too.

Shock- the scent of crushed mint in her nose- bled off of him, blue eyes wide and staring. He was silent and unmoving, and still Holly purred for him, waiting for his choice.

It took him awhile, but hesitant and halting, Bucky asked a question, keeping his gaze on her.

"Can I...can _we_...can we come with you?"

Holly blinked, surprised herself that _this_ is what he wished to do. She had hoped of course, but give a choice...she had not expected him to choose her. Had expected he would _want_ to leave and explore, to bask in his freedom. Still…

"If you want to come with me, you are more than welcome Buck, Winter."

She addressed them both, aware that the two personalities had not quite integrated, and not wanting either one of them to think she only welcomed one or the other. She continued, offering him the choice as she had always tried to do.

"You can leave whenever you'd like, but I would be pleased to have the both of you along for as long as you'd stay."

He purred- the woodsmoke and chocolate scent of his joy returning to the room- and Holly fought not to melt at the deep and rolling sound. Her purr increased in volume in response and she carefully lead Bucky out of the bank. They'd be using their portkey to jump countries, but first she'd have to inform Buck of what she would be doing.

 **LINEBREAK**

Holly had to admit to herself that the French knew how to do pastries and sweets. She would be sending Fleur a very nice _thank you_ card for her recommendations. Emerald eyes slid closed and she turned her aborted moan into a low hum of pleasure as she took that first bite of lemon-blackberry crepe. It was _delicious_ , and fresh and still _warm_ and Holly was in love. She chewed slowly, purring with pleasure.

The small choked noise drew her attention to the side, and she opened her eyes to look at Buck who had frozen beside her at the sound. She blinked at him, not understanding, and after a moment Buck went back to his banana cream crepe. She shook it off, walking with him down the streets.

She'd chased a lead here, but hadn't found her Death Eater runaway yet. Buck on the other hand had remembered that he had a safehouse here, and he wanted to go see it. He told her it was one of many that he had built when he escaped HYDRA a couple of times over the years.

They'd been hunting down leads on her escapees for a month since she'd taken him out of the bank after his last healing session. He'd come so _far_ and Holly was so very proud. He'd opened up some and it was obvious that he'd... _settled_ more, into himself since that point. He was more comfortable in his skin, and in sharing his thoughts with her.

Holly leaned closer to the Alpha, still purring softly as she carefully worked through the crepe, savoring each bite.

She needed twenty.

Or well, at least two more.

It was _so good_.

 **LINEBREAK**

Holly was going to be the _end_ of him.

Damn near a _century_ of brainwashing and torture and it was going to be this tiny slip of a warrior- an Omega Guide that killed him.

And to make it worse, she _didn't even know what she was_ _ **doing**_.

If he didn't know any better- if he couldn't smell it on her- he'd think she was doing it on _purpose_. She smelled _amazing_ , and the _goddamned noises_.

He'd never had this problem _before_.

Even when he was just ' _Bucky Barnes_ ', before HYDRA and the war, no other Omega had smelled like _this_. After HYDRA, they had made sure that scents and Omegas didn't distract from a mission. But now?

It was a blessing that she was a Guide, and she trusted him enough that she had lowered her shields to include him in her range. Her complete and utter _joy_ at crepes was perhaps the only thing that kept him from wearing a hole in the street with his antsy jittering desire to _move._ To _do something_.

Boudica was laughing at him, a strange sound from her beak, but her wings were fluttering around her body in amusement.

Winter was laughing at him too, even as he made a pleased rumble that was not quite a purr. He was pleased that _Holly_ was pleased, and _damn it_ , but Buck appreciated it too. The scent of her joy- apple pie, just out of the oven and _mouthwatering damn it-_ was pleasant and made him want to purr.

He bit into his own crepe and tried not to stare at Holly enjoying her own. It was made easier when he noticed others were staring at her too.

He stared them down. They quickly looked away.

Buck moved a bit closer to the Omega, his hand brushing against her own he was so close. She leaned towards him, her purr increasing in volume, and Buck couldn't help but rumble back.

He very pointedly _did not look_ at Holly when she licked the last of the crepe off her hands, chirping a pleased, absent minded question.

"How much farther, Buck?"

It still took him a second to respond, and was pretty damn proud that the words sounded steady and clear.

"Just another block left, after this turn."

 **LINEBREAK**

Holly reclined back on the couch of the safehouse Buck had brought her to. She allowed the Alpha to secure the place, ensuring no one and nothing had touched it since he'd been here last. It was a simple matter to clear away any dust with a twist of magic, and she had settled into the couch to wait.

Buck had allowed her to have the first shower, but he would be taking a bath, she knew. After years of being frozen and refrozen, sprayed down with cold water while being prepped and the the bad memories associated with all of it, she knew that Buck liked to take baths in water as hot as he could stand.

She should have expected that, but she still did not appreciate the way in which that fact had been learned. Buck didn't like it much either, once she'd talked him out of the flashback.

She buried her nose into the couch, and then huffed.

It didn't smell like apples and woodsmoke.

It smelled clean. Like fresh linen hung out to dry on a clothesline. It was decidedly lacking in any personal scents. She frowned at it. It was... _disappointing._ She had to fight the urge to rub all over it and mark it with her own scent. This was not her den, and she had no rights to scent Buck's furniture no matter how much she _wanted_ to.

Most of her belongings had Buck's scent on them due to their traveling together. It was a subtle claim on each other, that they smelled like one another, but it was not a _bond_ like she wanted. It was on the surface. It was not the same as a scent marking. It would fade, perhaps not after a shower, but maybe two or three days it would be faint enough to be easily missed.

She may, also, have stolen some of his shirts for sleepwear after he'd worn them. It helped her sleep. His scent was calming. Soothing the overwhelming emotions that welled up in her dreams. It was… a comfort, something she had not expected… that she was able to sleep as deeply as she did without the aid of potions or pills.

Although, it did make her pause, that she found his scent a comfort even _before_ she'd truly gotten to know him. Before she'd trusted him behind some of her mental shields, before she'd welcomed him into her range, before she'd learned to _trust_. It was natural for her to breathe in his scent, to help him as best she could. That was then.

Now?

Now, months after she had pulled him from a HYDRA base, and brought him to help, months after sitting with him as he dry heaved over the toilet, after he _trusted_ her to keep him safe when he was unable to, and a month after she had taken him from his last healing session where he'd asked to come with her…

Now, she _wanted_.

She wanted him for pack. He was _hers_. She craved his presence and scent, liked having him close, and reached for him both as a Guide and an Omega.

But how was she to broach the topic with him? She wanted him to stay with her, to trust her and willingly return any gestures of affection, but she did not want him to feel _obligated_ to return the pack-bond with her. She wanted it to be his _choice_.

Holly wanted him to look and her and _want._

She leaned back and closed her eyes, allowing her muscles to relax. She could think about it later. For now they needed food. Safe house or no, no one had been here in ages and there was nothing substantial in the place. She huffed at the clean linen scent again, before she pushed herself up.

"Buck?" Holly called out towards the bathroom and was rewarded with a muffled reply through the door.

"Yeah?" his head poked around the door after a moment, hair dripping with water and eyes warm.

"I'm gonna go out for some food, okay? I won't be long- maybe fifteen minutes, since that corner store is right down the block."

For a moment everything is quiet, and then he rumbles back.

"Alright. Be careful, Holly."

"I will!"

It was a promise, lips curved into a soft smile and a gaze that lingered fondly on familiar features.

He always asked her to be careful, but allowed her to make her own choices. It was a pleasant change after so many Alphas had tried to force her into compliance in the Enclaves. She turned from the door, quickly grabbing her wallet- it was easier than a purse- and tucking it into her pants pocket alongside the keys for the door.

She locked the door behind her, and turned towards the store.

 **LINEBREAK**

Holly kept her posture relaxed, and used her magic ensure no one could smell her wary alertness on her scent.

The only thing that may possibly have given her away was her too tight grip on her groceries, but that was hidden by the bags themselves. She had five minutes left before Buck started to worry about why she wasn't back yet.

And she had a group of five following her. She _would not_ lead them Buck's safe house. So she kept walking past it. She let her magic wipe her scent away from the walkway leading up to the door as she passed so her tails wouldn't know to check the house.

She wasn't sure _who_ exactly was following her, the scents of the city helping to hide whoever it was. She didn't want to turn to check either, and possibly alert whoever was on her tail. She frowned and took the next left. As she turned, she glanced at the road behind her out of the corner of her eye.

It took her less than a second to pinpoint her tails.

 _Wizards_.

More than that- _English_ wizards who had no idea how to blend in properly, which meant she was being tailed by Death Eaters.

She scowled for an instant as soon as the building blocked her form from their view. She'd have to lead them away from civilians. Her mind raced. She didn't know the city well enough to know a civilian-free space, she wasn't even sure the Death Eaters would _keep_ following her if she lead them out of the city itself. And nothing said they wouldn't shoot her in the back with a spell, Statute be damned, _anyway_.

Her eyes lifted, scanning the area quickly.

Her best bet would be one of the deeper alleyways.

 _Lovely._

Buck was going to be _pissed_.

 **LINEBREAK**

Buck paced the living room area of his safe house, staring down the door and waiting.

Holly wasn't back yet.

It had been twenty minutes. He'd waited an extra five beyond the limit she'd given him. She wasn't here. She had told him fifteen minutes, and she never _lied_ to Buck. So where was she?

 _Why_ wasn't she here?

Winter growled, low and dangerous in the back of his head. Bucky found he rather agreed with the level of threat pulsing in the back of his mind. If anything had happened to her-

Buck's lips pulled back off his teeth in a snarl without conscious thought.

He'd already pulled his boots on, and it was a simple matter to grab the spare set of keys as he stepped out the door and locked it behind himself.

The very first thing that tipped him off that something was wrong was the _complete lack_ of her scent by the door. Even in a city, after twenty minutes, trace amounts of her scent should be _present._ But there was _nothing_. And when he stepped down onto the street itself, he could scent Holly had walked _past_ the safe house.

Buck snarled, low and dangerous and _threat_ as he stalked after the lingering scent of ginger and oranges.

 **LINEBREAK**

Holly cursed, leaning back against the alleyway she'd lead her tails into. The narrow way had worked to her advantage somewhat, working to funnel the wizards as they worked their way closer, but it had _also_ limited her ability to dodge any spellwork. It had also come to her attention that these five wizards had worked together before. They flowed around each other easily, positioning _just_ so around one another's spell work. They were even possibly a pack.

The blood trailing down her ribs from the cutting curse she couldn't _quite_ dodge was proof of that. She'd gotten that wound earlier in the fight, when she'd been dealing with five wizards rather than the lone one left. It was a mark of Holly's skill that she'd managed to take down four members of a _war_ pack on her own in such close quarters while trying to hide what was happening from any passerbys. Luckily, the curse had only clipped her so it wasn't deep enough to be life-threatening. Or it wouldn't have been, if she'd gotten medical attention after receiving it. Instead, she had been forced to dance and duck and dodge around the alleyway, forcing the wound to bleed more, to pull and stretch.

Sneering down at the last wizard standing at the end of the alleyway, she inwardly spat several very biting curses at both him and his ancestry. He was using his surroundings as shields and had managed to somewhat shield his fallen packmates from her. She'd broken the wands, wrists, and legs- not necessarily in that order- of the Death Eaters she'd already felled, having learned in war _not_ to let her enemy get back up. She'd pressed herself back behind some wooden crates, dizzy and hoping the male wasn't smart enough to shoot off a fire spell while she was so close to them. She needed a minute.

Batair stood in front of her, his body low to the ground, fur standing on end and looking twice his normal size as he _snarled_ at the Death Eaters. He paced and snapped, teeth bared and eyes flashing in fury.

She watched the wizard's wand lift from his side and took a few cautious steps away from the wood just in case. She snarled at him low and dangerous and _inhuman_. He growled back, and she could _hear_ the hint of Alpha he'd tried to inject his voice with.

She nearly scoffed at him.

He was nowhere _near_ a strong enough Alpha to use his Command on her. Batair almost lunged at him, but then his eyes flashed to the alley opening, and he seemed to settle. Still irate, but soothed by something.

The pitiful attempt to try and _order her_ , as if she would _submit_ to _him,_ as if she was _weaker_ was offensive _._

She didn't _submit_ to _**Voldemort**_ , what kind of Death Eater thought he was stronger than his Lord? She hadn't submitted to _Dumbledore_ either, and this _scum_ thought he could Command her when his Lord and the one his Lord had feared had tried and failed?

It was only nearly, because a few seconds after he tried, after Batair settled, a deep thrumming _snarl_ echoed down the alleyway bringing the scent of burning woodsmoke and cinnamon. Her legs shook a bit at the sound, and the familiar scent.

The other Alpha's voice cut out with a gargled choking sound, and Holly leaned further back against the wall with a soft whine. It was _safe_ , yet so clearly _not_ and her instincts were warring with one another and she had lost _way_ too much blood to deal with this. Spots were already invading her vision and try as she might, she wasn't doing a good job on holding them off.

She wavered on her feet and listened as the snarl reverberated through the alley, becoming near deafening as it approached closer. She whined again, soft and _pained_ , and suddenly he was _there._

His eyes were _burning_ and frozen both, and his face morphed with rage, but he was so very gentle as he lifted her into his arms. She snuggled into his chest, some of the black on the edges of her vision spreading at the spike in pain due to the movement. She made a choked noise, her hand flying up to her ribs and pressing down.

Her hands trembled, adrenaline fading now that she got a look at the alleyway and the knives Buck had left in the skulls and throats of each Death Eater. His snarl got louder at the pained noise, and she whimpered back.

The snarl shifted into a rolling rumble, like thunder. It was a strange combination of a comforting purr and a furious growl, and she found herself going limp against him.

" _Buck_..." her voice was whisper soft and she nuzzled into his chest.

His voice was still mostly low and dangerously furious when he responded-

" _I've got you, doll."_

And Holly _believed_ him. Her eyes slid closed and her body relaxed into the warmth holding her.

 **LINEBREAK**

Buck did _not_ like where Holly's scent trail was leading. He recognized an attempt to limit civilian interference when he saw it, and considering how many turns she had taken, Buck had already figured out which five scents had stayed on her trail.

Boudica walked with her wings flared in threat, her beak snapping at the air like she could pull something apart. Buck gets the sentiment. He'd like to pull the five scents tracking his Omega apart too. Boudica is a flash of ash and soot as she rushes towards their prey.

Winter was a constant growl in the back of his head, and Bucky fought to keep from vocalizing it. It wouldn't do to alert his prey that he was stalking it. He spotted the groceries spilling out of the alleyway before he spotted her.

He was tense as a bowstring, but even then, he didn't _quite_ expect how volatile his response would be when he approached the alleyway and heard another Alpha trying to Command _his Omega._

Boudica _shrieks_ in rage, rearing up and wings flaring.

Bucky doesn't even flinch. He was powerless to stop himself as the utterly furious vocalization- made by both Winter _and_ himself- escaped him echoing down the alleyway. He scented his Omega's blood on the air, and heard the soft whimper of pain, and Buck-

Buck _let go_.

They had _hurt her, had made her_ _ **bleed**_. They had pinned her in an alley, made her _fight_. She was in _pain_ and they were _**in the way**_.

It was like breathing, to stalk down the alleyway and leave death behind them, to drive knives between eyes and in throats, so that _none of them_ would ever be able to touch _their Omega again._ Their fury climbed higher as they watched her waver on her feet, another pained cry tearing itself out of her throat, and they _wished_ they had the time to make those that had hurt her _bleed for it._

They were gentle, even in their shared fury as they lifted their Omega into their arms. It soothed something in Winter and Bucky both, when she nuzzled into their chest, but the rage clawing up their heart soared higher as she choked on a pained noise, her hands coming up to press against the source of the blood.

Winter picked up the minute trembles in her hands and lord help him, but his snarl deeped and somehow got _louder._

It was only when she whimpered back at him, a vocalized need for reassurance, that he managed to make another sound. It was a low throbbing bass rumble carrying notes of his fury, but mimicking the thrumming of a purr.

She relaxed against him at the sound, near limp in his arms even as she nuzzled into his chest.

" _Buck."_

Her voice was pained and soft and searching and all he- they- wanted to do was bundle her up and _protect her_.

" _I've got you, doll."_

She closed her eyes, and they _knew_ she was still breathing and _alive_ , but when she went lose and pliant in their arms, there was still an instant that their heart stuttered.

Bucky- _Winter_ -Bucky whirled from the bodies- _evidence, they'd have to get rid of it, there were some supplies at the house-_ and rushed as smoothly as they could towards the safehouse and the collection of first aid supplies and potions they knew were inside. They would see to their Omega first, and then deal with the dead.

The low rumble shifted into a deeper register at the thought of their- _his-_ Omega's attackers. It only went back when he felt Holly shift in his arms, reacting to his aggression. Winter- _Bucky?_ -Winter scaled the wall quickly, even supporting Holly with one arm. It wouldn't do to carry a bleeding and unconscious person- much less an Omega Guide in the arms of an Alpha Sentinel- through town.

They rushed soundlessly over the rooftops and entered into their safehouse without interruptions. Winter didn't hesitate as he reached for her side, a quick twist of his metal arm ripping the fabric in his way. Their hands were steady, and as their Omega began to make soft distressed sounds, attempting to pull herself away from them, that was when they managed a thrumming purr.

She settled at the comforting sound, and they continued to purr for her even as they wanted to _rage_ through the city on her behalf. It was easy to administer first aid, and with the help of a few of Holly's potion supply, the wound was healed as if it had never been done.

But Holly's blood scent still lingered on the air, mixed with the sharp scent of her anger and pain, the bodies still sat in the dark of an alleyway, the groceries still sat- picked up and hidden as to not draw attention to the dead-and they- Winter and Bucky-still wanted to _murder_ the people who had attacked their Omega.

It was nothing less then an act of _god_ to pull himself away from her.

The only thing to get him moving was Winter's soft contribution that the bodies and blood would allow enemies to track both Holly and themself.

Buck would have dealt with them anyway, but the idea of _any_ hostile tracking his Omega-especially when she was vulnerable- had the Alpha in him _furious_ and ready to fight. The bodies _needed_ to go- the longer they were there the more likely they were to be found.

Buck snarled at the situation- _(He wished Steve was here, he'd have watched Bucky's Omega while he took care of everything)_ \- and then turned and slid through the window and back to the roofs after gathering the supplies he would need. It was much quicker this time as he flew over the roofs, due to both the fact that they did not need to be gentle with their Omega, and their need to go back to her. He _(James-Bucky-Winter, Holly called them Buck, they were Buck-)_ had never completed a cleaning as quickly or as thoroughly as he had done right then. The bodies were quickly disposed of, the scents were erased or changed, the blood cleaned up and every bit of evidence eradicated.

Buck would leave _no_ trace for anyone to track back to his Holly.

The moment he was sure of that, he grabbed the bag of groceries he had hidden, and darted back over the roofs. He dropped back onto the roads only long enough to make a show of 'coming back' from grocery shopping as he unlocked the door and slipped back inside his safehouse.

The groceries were set on the counter for later, and he went right back to Holly. Deep even breaths pulled in her scent. There were still traces of _blood-pain-anger-worry_ that made his muscles relax into a ready stance, but the core ginger-oranges was coming back.

Buck settled himself on the floor, beside her bed. He would keep watch until she was awake. There was no way he'd be able to sleep before he'd seen Holly's eyes open, heard her voice, made _certain_ that she was alive and on her way to well.

Buck's eyes were pinprick points against an icey backdrop.

Anyone that tried to take advantage of his Omega's state would soon find themselves _**very, very dead.**_


	5. Chapter 5

**FULL TIME COLLEGE WHILE WORKING IS KICKING MY ASS AND KILLING MY FREE TIME I'M SORRY**

 **LINEBREAK**

Holly wakes up slowly, the lingering call of sleep pulled away as slow as molasses.

It's still a new sensation, waking up lethargic and not all at once, _especially_ after she's been hurt. She remembers the burn of a cutting curse catching her ribs, and yet…

She can see Batair in her peripheral vision, a great muscled mass of black fur, curled into himself, but alert and watching her from his place on the floor beside her bed. He is calm and still where he lays, no longer a furious snarling ball of muscle and bristle fur, entirely willing and able to tear into any being who came close to her.

With the smell of apples and woodsmoke her nose easily scents, coupled with the steady breaths to the opposite side that Batair had laid, and below her ears...She knows before she's fully conscious that Buck is there, and she is safe. He's crooning softly beside her, and when she manages to turn her head to look, he has settled beside her bed. He's shifted to meet her eyes with his own, and she can see the arrangement of weapons around him, but that steady and soothing croon is still present.

Holly croons back, softer but audible. Exhaustion drags heavily at her bones. It's easy to recognize the feeling of not having gotten any decent hours of sleep, save through healing potions. She's glad she had run Buck through the potions and their uses, as well as what could and could not be mixed. Which of her potions would actually _work_ on her, considering what was in her bloodstream.

Buck rises to his knees, turning his shoulders so his gaze was leveled steadily, catching her own, and Holly tracks the movement lazily. It's warm. She's so very comfortable with the softness of the blankets and the solid mass of a living, breathing person next to her. One who will rise to her defense in a lethal manner if it's needed. She...Holly is so very used to being the _defender_ , the 'attack dog', the _general_ , that it is a novel and humbling situation wherein she is with someone who can, not only keep up with, but defend her. Someone who _will_ defend her and not expect her to be the one to protect them both _._ One who is _safe._

That's another strange thing, to _not_ track somebody who has the skills to be a threat, because she _trusts them not to be_. She trusts that she doesn't _need_ to watch his every move, track his hands, how close he was to her person, and what was in his reach that could be used as a weapon.

Buck leans closer to her, his voice a low rumble as he asks gently, with a soft lilt of concern, "Are you alright?"

She hums softly at him, sleep making her voice just a bit rougher. Holly pauses a moment before she offers a more verbal response, when Buck continues to stare in a subtle request for more information.

"I'm fine, Buck. It wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't had to keep fighting afterwards and made myself bleed faster. Curse wounds are always worse- they don't clot like they should, and always bleed more than expected."

A deep thrumming _growl_ echoes through the room, furious and _protective_ and Holly startles at the sound of it.

She blinks up at the Alpha knelt at her side and reaches up for him. He leans down and into the hand, nuzzling lightly and Holly finds herself softly purring before she's even thought to make the sound. Partly because she's pleased Buck trusts her hands near his face- and by extension vulnerable areas like eyes and ears, one's nose and mouth-and partly in an effort to soothe and comfort Buck.

Buck huffs back, the sound vibrating with the rolling edges of a purr, but not quite making it in his anger. He leans further towards her, and then pauses.

Holly watches him, still and trusting, allowing Buck to do whatever it is that he is thinking of.

He leans closer before he begins to speak, his voice low and throbbing with a hint of Command, as the Alpha bleeds into his speech. "I waited for you to come back. I knew something was wrong when you didn't come back on time, but I waited five extra minutes."

It's soothing and flattering for Holly to hear Buck had waited to see if she could deal with the problem before he went looking for her. Perhaps from anyone else it would have been grating. Something to make her angry. 'I waited five minutes', like she couldn't handle herself, or like Buck was trying to cage her. But with Buck...it's different. She's walked side by side with this Sentinel as he recovered from _decades_ of torture and conditioning. Holly _knows_ him, knows how his mind works, and he _trusts_ her. She knows that he waited at all- that he didn't stick to the letter of what she had told him was a sign of improvement.

Besides- letting an Omega, especially and Omega _Guide_ handle anything was more than most Alphas did at all. That Buck had trusted in her skill set, that she wouldn't take more than five minutes to deal with any complications and return to him was pleasing. Holly meets his eyes head on and waits for Buck to finish speaking.

"And then I walked out, and your scent was _gone."_ There's a flash of Winter in his eyes then, less of the mesh that Bucky and Winter have began to settle into, and more of the blatant predator that HYDRA had enhanced in him.

His voice deepens into a rolling bass, and Holly fights to control the shiver that wants to run through her spine. Goddess, but that was just-

That was a good sound.

That was an _excellent_ register of voice, _Sweet Circe-_

"Gone from the steps, and then leading _away_. So I followed it. And I found you pinned in an alleyway, four bodies laying like a trail, and one _fucker_ who thought he could get away with tryin' to _Command_ you, like you were some- Like you were _lesser_ than him, and he had some kind of _right_ to just- And the scent of your blood was in the air, and I saw you waver on your feet and I-"

This time Buck _snarls_ low and _threatdanger_ _ **Alpha**_ in his voice. Holly doesn't tense. Doesn't even think about Vernon or Dudley, or any number of Alphas at Hogwarts who had tried to use Command on her. She isn't even threatened or frightened, because she _knows_ this is on her behalf. Has spent months with this Alpha, and _trusts_ him. It's immensely flattering, the amount of care and protectiveness that bleeds from him, even with the violence that sharpens his body language.

"And all I could think about," Buck whispers, once he wrestles himself into some kind of control, "is how they had hurt _**my Omega**_ , tried to _Command_ you, and I needed to _kill them_."

And-

And _oh._

 _ **Oh.**_

She's staring at him, mouth open and eyes wide. Holly knows she is, but there's this light in his eyes, like he could _burn the world_ , and his muscles have all tensed like he just needs a _target_ , and he's staring at _her_ and-

And he called her _his Omega_.

He leans forward again, and lifts his head just a bit, and his jaw runs over her head, slow and careful, but deliberate and firm. There's a question in that movement, an offer that Holly could take or refuse. Holly's heart just about _stops_. He's scent marking her. He's claiming her as _pack_ and- and-

No one has _ever_ wanted her for pack before. Not when she always ended up right in the middle of death threats, and fighting and _war_. Not when she was the Guide who learned to weaponize her skills, who could and _would_ \- who **had** \- tear apart her enemies minds. Not when she's so much more powerful than the average Omega _or_ Guide much less an Omega Guide as she is. Not when Holly had learned to scan every single person who came into her range, in case they were trying to kill her again. Not when _Holly_ had taken the role of an Alpha in the war, and most wouldn't- _couldn't_ \- refused to work with her, when _none_ of them made Holly feel safe enough to hand over that role to someone else.

Holly whines, soft and pleased, and stretches her body upwards until she can rub her cheek against Buck's.

It is a choice made, an ache soothed, happiness and joy bubbling in her heart.

The purr escapes her like it's been ripped from her chest, loud and deep and so very pleased. That Buck immediately joins, his purr octaves lower than hers, but just as loud, and leans in closer to return the scent mark and then rubs his opposite cheek against hers, firm, no longer a question, but a mutual claim shared between them, only leaves Holly a pleased and pliant pile of Omega on the bed.

Her instincts _sing_ , and she can feel every remaining bit of tension in her muscles bleed out of her. Fred and George were Alphas, and they were _good_ ones, but when it came down to it, they still followed Holly. They were her brothers in all but blood, but they were _also_ her soldiers, and to an Omega...that just didn't translate over to the entirely boneless _safe_ feeling Holly had right now. For all intents and purposes, _Holly_ had been the 'alpha' in her small pack.

Fred and George, while she trusted and loved them as pack, would never be able to be _her_ Alphas.

Buck...Buck could do that. He had proven that he would march after her, kill her enemies- which was a _very_ pleasing thing to the base instincts in her head from a time before civilization, where packs were formed and ran wild- and take care of her. Even now, she could still see the array of weapons laid out around him, and it soothed something in her to see how willing he was to use force to protect her while she was vulnerable.

She was so used to being the _protector_ , the one in charge, the leader, the _Alpha,_ the _General_.

No one in the Enclaves had _allowed_ her to be anything else. And then they had shoved her back with the Dursleys, only to bring her back to drag her name through the mud, spit on her honor or praise her with every breath, every stroke of a quill. One day calling her a shining beacon and leader to the younger generations, another bringing her Omega status into the paper, calling her names and telling the world she was an 'Omega that didn't know her place'. The Enclaves had run so hot and cold she hadn't really trusted _anyone_ apart from a rare few.

And for those few, they had been fed stories of her for her entire life, about how she was 'a savior', the one in charge, the one who would _save_ them, and how could she blame them when they loved her so, but still looked at her to solve their problems?

She may have been an Omega and a Guide, with the instincts that _craved_ the stability of an Alpha to rely on, and a Sentinel to help her reign in her empathy, no matter that she could take care of herself, but that didn't matter.

It didn't even register as a _thought_ for anyone, unless it was a fact to use against her with the Enclaves, not even those who cared about her. They understood that she would feel this way, but the stories and 'facts' they had all heard about her from the moment they understood words- what they had been conditioned from toddlerhood to think- had caused a disconnect between these facts and 'Holly Potter.' And everyone else? Those who were not her family? They were sheep lead by unsubstantiated rumors and vicious lies.

But it didn't help that she _had_ taken the role of leader and soldier, of teacher and _General_ for an entire army, that she had stared Alphas the likes of Dumbledore and Voldemort down when they tried to Command her and _refused_. That she had, essentially, proved each and every one of those stories to be _true_ in a way.

Lies made _true_ by the pulling and tugging of those in authority. Rumors _confirmed_ by the situation that _everyone else_ ensured she would be right in the middle.

But...Buck didn't have that problem. He saw _her_ , acknowledged her strength and ability to fight, and was _still_ willing to be a protector where she needed him to be. Willing to fight _beside_ her.

It wasn't that Holly bought into all that 'Omegas are weak', 'Omegas can't lead', 'Omegas are damsels in distress that need a strong Alpha to take care of them', 'A good Omega is a submissive Omega' bullshit, had in fact proved them all wrong more than once, but…

It _was_ true that Omegas craved pack, stability, and a healthy and happy family- in blood or in bond- to surround themselves with. That Omegas _enjoyed_ the stability that came with an Alpha they trusted who could help them achieve these things, who would act as a buffer, or an migrating influence. An Alpha who would fight _beside_ them in defence of their family.

 _(Holly still remembered her first heat in the castle. Omegas turned into little fighting_ machines _when they were in heat if they had no mate to share it with. They either aggressively cuddled their packmates or got up into any and_ every _body's faces, willing and able to kick whoever's ass was stupid enough to challenge them._

 _Holly...did not take well to being confined or Commanded regularly._

 _In heat?_

 _In heat, Holly had ended up in eleven fist fights, broke three noses, snarled in four teacher's faces- including Dumbledore-, thrown Draco over the table in the middle of dinner in the Great Hall, and ended up standing on the head table to declare that the next Alpha to Flare in her direction would find themselves at the end of a very long drop from her broom above the heart of the Forbidden Forest or the Whomping Willow._

 _Whichever was closest._

 _And that had been within the first ten hours of her heat._

 _It had not been pretty, and with no Alpha to act as a migrating influence, well._

 _The castle lived in fear of Holly Potter when her heat came to call.)_

Not that Holly had had to worry about her heat in a long while. The stress of leading a war, the deaths she had seen, the aftermath of torture, and being on the run as 'Undesirable Number One', as well as _dying_ and coming back to life had all added up to mean her body had stopped _having_ a heat.

She was sure it would come back of course, once she had recovered somewhat, but for the moment Holly had no idea when that would be.

She didn't even care right then, the sounds of her Alpha's purr mixing with her own causing her body to go loose and relaxed.

She made a mental note to open her shields up to Buck entirely sometime soon. It would be good to allow her Guide side to imprint Buck's Sentinel in as one of _hers_. She'd only allowed him into the barest edges of her shields, enough that they were aware of one another's feelings in a small sense, that they could sense the other was _there_ , but no further. She hadn't shown him her spirit guide either. She'd have to fix that, just in case she needed to send Batair to him to lead Buck somewhere.

Batair huffs off to the side, a pleased sound, and paces around to the front of her bed. It soothes something in her that Batair approves the thought. He was usually a very good judge of character, and the fact he approved of her Alpha was lovely.

Her brow furrowed for a moment. She'd have to introduce Buck to her cub as well. Teddy may have been switching between Andi, select members of the Defense Association, and the Weasleys while she hunted the remains of the Death Eaters, but he was still _hers_. Remus and Tonks had trusted her with him. Had chosen her as godmother, and she had been there to imprint him, with all of her senses, into her mind as _hers_. It wouldn't do to _not_ introduce her Alpha to the pack cub, especially as Teddy was hers to look after once this whole mess was taken care of.

She nuzzled into Buck's neck for a moment, pulling in deep breaths of his scent even as she marked him with hers. She went near boneless when Buck did the same, nuzzling into where her neck met her shoulder. It was where their scents were strongest, and the easiest place to exchange scents with one another. That it was so close to her neck, and a vulnerable place, meant that only packmates got anywhere near it.

They remained there for a few moments, still and breathing deeply, tension bleeding out of both of them.

Buck eventually pulled back, settling down into his place between her and all the entrances, but adjusted himself so that she was also in his line of sight. Holly relaxed into the bundle of blankets and pillows her Alpha had settled her into and felt remarkably calm. None of her past memories scrambled for her attention, she didn't feel like she was on the verge of a flashback, her chest didn't feel tight, adrenaline wasn't pumping through her veins in preparation for needing to- or feeling like she needed to- be ready to fight again in a moments notice.

It was the most relaxed she had ever been coming out of a healing session after a fight.

She hummed for a moment, debating going back to sleep or doing something else. Eventually she unbundled herself and stretched, before standing up. Buck tracked her, and Holly murmured to him quickly "Shower. I have blood on me."

And she did. Buck had obviously wiped up what he could get to and changed her shirt and pants to get rid of most of the mess, but she could still feel the dry and flaking mess under the wire of her bra, as well as in her hair and a few other places.

Buck nodded once, a rumbling-

"I will watch the entrances."

-reaching her in answer.

Holly smiled, running a hand through his hair as she went by in agreement. It was thrilling to be able to share in the casual touches of pack with him now, and he returned the brush by lifting a hand and skimming it over her hip as she walked passed him.

She found herself purring again, loud and pleased, as she grabbed a change of clothes and her towels.

Holly would make crepes when she got out. With strawberries. Lots of whipped cream. They both deserved it. _(And she knew Buck had a weakness for plums and strawberries both.)_

 **LINEBREAK**

" _ **Buck!**_ **Get** _**down!**_ "'

Why did _everything_ always end up like this. Circe _**damned**_ Potter Luck.

Holly is pleased when her Alpha immediately drops where he stands, and the killing curse she'd seen fired missed him by a hair.

No hesitation or pause, only trust and quick reflexes. She snarls, feral and _furious_ as she lunges towards the Death Eater who fired it. She forgoes her wand entirely, hands extended for the man's throat, and _murder_ in her eyes. Her shields lower just enough to condense a feeling of _terror_ _ **pain**_ into his mind. At her side Batair is a snarling, brisling invisible support.

That was a little fact that most people tended to forget. Omegas or Guides on a warpath were the things of _nightmares_.

It was believed for so long that Guides and Omegas, and _especially_ Omega Guides, had no place in war or fighting at _all_ , that it just sort of became…. _natural_. A stereotype, something that influenced the entire population. Guides and Omegas both were meant to stay home and watch after the cubs, were the peacemakers of the packs, and not to be put into a fight at all when the big strong Sentinels and Alphas were there to do the fighting for them.

People saw an Omega picking a fight and the laughed, saw a Guide getting angry and scoffed.

Most forgot that an Omega knew exactly how to pull packs apart at the seams, which buttons to push and exactly where to attack. That Guides could get into their target's head and screw with emotions if their target didn't have a stable and strong bond to their own Sentinel or another Guide. Even then, if the attacker was a _stronger_ one? They could pull _both_ the target and their partner down into a mass of emotional upheaval. An Omega Guide that had something to protect? Something they saw as _worth_ going to war for?

They could rip everything about a person and their pack apart, watch them all fall like dominoes, given the incentive. They would smile in doing so. Rejoice in a safety ensured with their actions.

Holly was a _very_ powerful Omega Guide who had been _trained_ in a warfront. Who _knew_ , intimately, exactly how to do those things, and what it felt like to have another try to do the same to her. How to fight and tear people down, how to build them up.

And this _Beta Sentinel_ had just tried to _kill_ her Alpha.

Holly was going to _destroy him_.

She slammed into the Beta's chest before he had a chance to get his wand up, her emotional attack on his person forcing a flight or fight response that led to him freezing instead of fighting. She took the man to the ground, her hands quick and ruthless.

He wasn't breathing by the time she rolled to her feet.

Holly hadn't realized that so _many_ Death Eaters had fled to France. She'd know a few were present, but after The Incident, it seemed they were pouring out of the woodwork.

 _Roaches and maggots, the lot of them_.

Buck had disposed of the bodies, and any scents left behind, but the bastards were still _finding_ them. Holly had gone back once she was up to deal with the magical residue, so she wasn't exactly sure what they were tracking. All she knew was it was making the Death Eaters come to _her_ , to her and Buck, and while annoying was making her job easier.

The wizards certainly weren't aware that it was _Holly Potter_ waiting on the other end of their search, with backup, as made obvious by their reactions when they found her. They had no idea to be wary of her- that the leader of their enemies was waiting to finish the job.

Still- it was a pain trying to explain spells and their effects to Buck, that he couldn't let most of spells even graze him or it would take effect. Her portable pensieve was a blessing in that, being able to show her Alpha what spell did what, and their effects. She wished she had had the time to share her magic with him in another way. Perhaps take him flying in her animagus form. Battle was not the first practical experience she wanted for Buck other than healing potions.

Still- Buck was taking it brilliantly and adjusting to it.

Small mercies.

Holly snarled an _Accio_ , yanking her wand back into her hand as she flew over the battlefield back towards her Alpha who was holding his own and using his guns to maximum efficiency. Of the original fifteen, only four Death Eaters remained. They'd caught on to bullets _not_ being stopped by the shield charm, and had taken to hiding behind cover- made or found. Holly rubbed the dirt from her face, and strode up beside Buck, eyes narrowed at the holed up Death Eaters. She tilted her head, considering and calculating.

Buck shifted at her side, glancing at her for a moment before speaking softly, "I'm not sure I like that look in your eyes Holly. That looks a lot like Stevie right before he did somethin' _real_ stupid."

Holly squinted at the shelter the wizards were hiding behind.

"Well," her voice is pondering, pleasantly smooth. "I have three options. None are very good."

"And those options are?"

Buck's voice is steady, calm. Waiting.

"I can open my shields, and _force_ them all out by attacking them emotionally, I can open my shields and attack their minds so viciously I _break_ them….or...I can use a very, very nasty fire curse that is rather magically draining and hard to control. I can do it, of course, but it will leave me...exhausted. I usually wouldn't have any trouble with it at all, but I'm still not recovered from my efforts in the war."

Bucky growled low and deep an unhappy. "If you could _not_ open your mind up to these scum, that would be swell, doll."

Holly tilted her head, faintly amused.

"True," she hummed consideringly. "I don't have an active Sentinel bond to help pull me back from that anyway. Cursed fire it is." She pulled in a deep breath, steadying her mind as she prepared for the spell. Her hands were steady as she lifted her wand.

She didn't yell her incantation as so many others had done. Instead she pulled in a second breath and allowed the darker emotions to rise in her chest, her body shaking at the _rage,_ the _hatred_ \- She hissed, low and steady-

" _Fiendfyre!_ "

The pull on her magic was immediate, as was the surge of the cursed fire against her control. A basilisk of flames poured from her wand, coiling and lunging forward at her command, even as it fought against her will. Her muscles tensed and she could feel sweat trickle down the side of her face.

The screams were immediate and frenzied as the Death Eaters ran to escape the formally safe shelter. Buck was quick to take aim at those who were lucky enough to be a fraction faster than her basilisk, bodies falling for every shot he took.

Holly bared her teeth, straining against the curse-flame as it writhed to get away from her sway. It was more difficult than it had ever been before to keep her hold on it. It felt more draining magic wise as well, though she knew that was just the fatigue of the war talking.

Even with potions, magical exhaustion the likes of which she had been facing was one of those things that just _had_ to be recovered from naturally. That she had been so close to _empty_ meant that even with months between her leaving Britain to hunt, she still suffered the aftereffects of it. That she _kept using_ her magic while fighting the Death Eaters she found didn't help her either.

Buck would be mad she'd been pushing herself so long when he found out. Holly grinned to herself even as she forced the basilisk to turn, curling in on itself as it spiralled closer around what remained of the bodies around them. It was nice to have an Alpha that looked out for her, and refused to allow her to fight by herself. Who refused to put up with her bullshit and _expected_ her to not put up with his.

Green eyes narrowed even farther, her back a tense line, as she finally burnt the bodies and the little bunker of rock and stone the others had made into ash. It may have been easier to control the fire if she had allowed it to burn anything around it- like the ground it slithered across- instead of focusing the flames on only her targets. That would have given their presence away though, and Holly wanted to avoid that.

The witch felt Buck's hand, a steady weight between her shoulders, and relaxed a bit, even as she forced the fire to eat itself. As the basilisk shrunk so did the strain on her magic and Holly slowly relaxed against Buck's hand. She breathed for a moment, sweat dripping down her face and her legs shaking just a bit.

There was one more thing to do, before they moved from the French countryside. She let herself sag against her Alpha's support just a little even as she lifted her wand. Quick spells were cast to muddle and distort the magical signatures in the area. Rather than erase them entirely, such spells took the multiple signatures present and twisted them all together so intensely they were unidentifiable by any means nor would anyone be able to pull the signatures apart to get a lock on the two of them that way. It was on old Black Family secret she had found in the library, and quite useful for things like this. So many useful things, in the Black Library.

As soon as she managed that last bit of magic she let herself lean more heavily against her Alpha's side with a sigh. He supported her easily, his eyes flying over the now empty- damn near invisible- battlefield they had just shared for any stragglers. When he found none, Holly found herself lifted effortlessly into his arms as he stalked forward towards the motorbike she had inherited from Sirius.

He tucked her into the sidecar and swung himself up onto the seat. Usually she'd have tucked herself up against his back and used a careful rune combination that would get rid of the sidecar until the rune sequence was entered in backwards. In this case she wasn't sure she'd stay awake the entire ride to hold on and so didn't argue. A careful expansion charm on the sidecar meant she could stretch her legs out- even Buck would be able to- and she leaned her head back against the seat to close her eyes.

When she woke up she could report to the French Ministry of Magic, let the Minister know his Death Eater problem was taken care of. Perhaps she would share some information pertaining to the non-magical side. Maybe enjoy a cup of tea. Then she'd work on picking her next target.

Buck would get them back to their newest safehouse in the meantime.


	6. Chapter 6

**I LIIIIVEEEE- I've been craving Family ABO fics again, (though that was specifically for BnH ANYWAY-) so- it's been forever home you all are still here and enjoying everything!**

 **LINEBREAK**

Holly finds herself waking up, once again surrounded by the scent of woodsmoke and apples. It would be getting old, except she never feels more rested then she does when she wakes surrounded in Buck's scent. This time Buck is sitting in the bed beside her, back against the headboard and his weapons either strapped on or in easy reach.

"Hey, Buck."

She yawns around the greeting stretching out carefully and digging her toes into the blankets around her. His scent is becoming more common to wake to in the morning as he always settles in beside her before they sleep.

It's the best sleep Holly has had since before the war. He doesn't always stop the nightmares, but Buck's presence _does_ cut them down by a wide margin.

"Holly." Buck greets her with a warm tone and then leans down over the side of the bed, lifting a tray from the floor with a covered plate of food. "I made breakfast."

Holly smiles with pleasure, shifting her weight and pushing herself up into a sitting position before she takes the tray and the offered food with a chirped, " _Thank you!_ " and a soft purr.

They took turns making the meals and always helped with hair in the morning. It soothes them both to help provide for and groom their packmates. So it was routine that Holly shifted, providing her back to Buck, and humming around the fork full of food in her mouth when Buck began to brush Holly's copper-fire curls.

When she finished the food she set the plate and the tray aside and just relaxed into the subtle and gentle pull and tug of Bucky braiding her hair back out of her face, and then twisting it into a bun.

Holly could _never_ get the bun to stay when she tried to do that unless she cheated with magic. Buck always managed it.

When he was done, she leaned down to set the tray on the floor, and the twisted around to take the brush and set to work on Buck's hair. It was always gratifying to watch the tension bleed out of her Alpha as she pulled the brush through his hair to gently detangle it. She spent a few minutes just running her finger through it as she shifted between style choices, and relished in the soft purr she could feel vibrating from her Alpha's chest.

Holly eventually just pulled his hair back form his face and tied it into a tail, deciding to forgo the man-bun Buck liked to pull his hair into since he'd already put her hair into a bun of her own.

Once she had finished, she settled next to him, tucking herself closely against his body. He was warm and smelled pleasantly of apples with hints of cherries. For a few moments, everything was still and silent and they basked in one another's company.

Holly was close to drifting- not asleep, but not quite _aware_ \- when Buck's steady purr quieted and then stopped. She opened her eyes- wasn't quite sure when she had closed them- and tilted her head up to look at blue eyes that were already staring down at her. "What is it?"

For a moment, it looks like Buck isn't going to answer, and then he does, soft and low and steady, picking and choosing his words carefully.

"You said…" A pause, a slight hesitation. "You said that you didn't have a Sentinel to help anchor you. when you used your abilities as a Guide."

Holly sat up, twisting so she had a more direct line of sight on Buck as she answered him. "I don't, no. No Sentinel wanted to bond with me, when I was on a warfront, their leader, and so prone to danger. When I was a Guide who had learned to _weaponize_ my abilities in pain and fire, and the dying around me." Her eyes tightened at the remembered pain.

How much it had hurt to claw her way back to herself every time she'd been forced to use her abilities in such a way without an anchor to guide her home. Forced to extend past her limits and then return to herself. How on some days, when the dead outnumbered the living, and she had to be the one to to go out and make the enemy _run_ , when she forced them to flee in terror, or brought them to their knees with pain- some days Holly hadn't _wanted_ to claw her way back to her own mind. The memories of Sentinels flinching away from her, because they _knew_ what she could do with her abilities, what they had _seen_ her do. The way none would meet her eyes when it was brought up that she might do better with a Sentinel of her own. She was their leader, and they trusted her to _lead_ them, but they still feared what she could do. What she had been forced to learn to survive against wizards with decades of experience over herself.

Her pack would have offered, had they been able, she knew. But most had already found their Fated Match, and were unable to act as her Sentinel, and the ones that _hadn't_ were Guides themselves and unable to be the anchor to pull her back. Still, on some days it had only been her pack and their bonds to one another that had called her home anyway.

A low growl interrupts her thoughts and she blinks when she finds herself gathered in strong arms and pulled tightly to her Alpha's chest. When she looks up at him, Buck looks very much like he wants to fight somebody. She presses her smile into his chest and nuzzles against him at the sign of his anger on her behalf. She remains relaxed in Buck's lap for a few moments before he manages to get his growling under control. He pushes her back lightly, his hands remaining on her shoulders as he meets her eyes.

His voice is strong, unwavering and entirely certain when he offers her himself.

"Would you allow me to bond with you as your Sentinel? I may not be your Fated, but I would be willing to anchor you whenever and wherever you needed me."

And _oh,_ oh Holly loves him then, just a little. She _loves_ him, for what he offers to her, that he had _seen_ her weaponise her ability and listened to her tell him, and still he offers. She can scent no lie or hesitation on him- he _means_ it.

He is entirely serious when he offers her himself as a Sentinel to guide her home and anchor her when she has to extend herself outwards.

Batair huffs in the way he does when he's pleased. Holly always thought it would be a purr, if Batair had ended up a large cat.

Holly leans up, wrapping her arms around him and nuzzling into his neck even as she purrs so loudly her own ears ring with it. She melts against him, going pliant and utterly pleased. "If you'll have me," she agrees speaking into his neck "I would love for you to be my Sentinel."

Bucky bends his head, nuzzling hard against her, and then pressing a kiss to her forehead, natural as breathing when he speaks "Good."

He pulls back, hands loose around her wrists as he pulls her to the floor. She goes willingly, settling across from his form. Their knees touch and his hold shifts until they've clasped hands. He's looking at her, eyes warm and soft and a smile curling at the edges of his lips.

Holly smiles back, wide and happy and trusting, as pleased as anything.

Even knowing she is about to pull her barriers down, about to bare her mind and emotions to Buck, she doesn't hesitate. She _trusts_ him. With everything in her- with this. With a permanent bond, with the ability to influence her through that bond, to pull her back when she has to be a fighter, when she has to extend past her limits. She trusts that Buck would not let her drift.

And it is _amazing_ to her that he trusts her with it too. That despite the damage she _knows_ had been done to him by HYDRA, he trusts her in his mind to establish the bond. That he _trusts_ her with the sort of bond that will allow her gifts to work on him so much _easier_ if she should choose. It was with awe that she had chosen to establish his bond to _her_ first. If he was going to allow her that close to his mind when he had been hurt so badly before, she would open her mind to him first, allow him to _know_ she would never hurt him as he had been hurt _before_.

She settles into a more comfortable position and keeps her eyes open and on his, as she slowly begins to pull her _Occlumency_ shields down. She can feel him there, on the edges where she had allowed him. With every barrier that fell before him, Buck reached out a little more. He was slow and careful as she bared herself to him. He never rushed, always paused and gave her a chance to stop him. He was _gentle_ in a way none who had gotten past her shields had ever been.

She can feel the spikes in his emotions every time he comes across the areas of her psyche that had been hurt, and every time he finds them, he soothes over them with his presence. Wraps every wound and scar up in a sense of _protection_ , in a promise that should anyone get past her shields they would find _Buck_ there to fight them off. He is not yet aware of _what_ had caused the wounds, and yet it doesn't stop him as he brushes his presence against them as gently and carefully as he can.

And then Holly reaches that part of every Guide, the core of her, that sits in the heart of her shields. The one she will have to open up to Buck to establish the bond. Buck is _there_ in her mind, more present than he has ever been, and Holly has never been so sure of her choice.

She begins to pull open that last barrier.

Buck doesn't move. This is her _core_ , her very self, and she is opening it to him, so that the bond can be made. She can feel how awed he is, and she smiles to herself even as she keeps pulling the layers of protection away. That he doesn't rush her, or crowd at her as she opens only makes her more certain. _This_ was her Alpha and soon to be her Sentinel. She had made a wonderful choice.

She exhales a little shakily as the last barrier falls. She is open and vulnerable to Buck, and it is a little nerve racking even though she trusts him. And Buck- bless him- can sense it.

So he doesn't move. He comes closer, but he waits, right there on the edge. He doesn't touch, or take advantage of her. He is still and radiating _protection-safety-conviction-patience_ and Holly _adores_ him for it.

When she settles, that initial nervousness fading, _that_ is when Buck moves forward. He stays slow and steady and sure, and allows her every chance to stop him if she so wishes.

Holly doesn't.

 **LINEBREAK**

Buck feels _breathless_. And reverent. And so protective he's _brimming_ with it. His chest is tight with the mess of emotion and she is _so very beautiful_. She has allowed him into herself, opened her mind, and she's just as gorgeous inside as she is outside.

Even the wounds he finds in her, as she opens herself for Buck to establish his link, add to everything that is _Holly_. He makes sure to press his presence against the wounds, soothing and gentle as he follows the presence that is Holly deeper into her own mind.

He nearly quivers with astonishment that she would let _him_ , let the Winter Soldier, into her mind.

He has been _trained_ to take people apart, physically yes, but also mentally. Taught exactly how to attack weaknesses and thoughts to make a person pull _themselves_ apart, taught to use others' emotions against them, to press the buttons that will cause mistakes-

And she hadn't hesitated to allow him into her head, allow him a front row seat to her emotions, allow a _bond_.

So if Buck- and Winter who feels like a single touch may shatter him, he's so very pleased and _protective_ over this woman- can do nothing but follow her in- well. They will _cherish_ her, and they will go as slowly as needed.

And still each barrier falls before them, they are allowed further into her very _self_. They can feel that flash of nervous jitters and they still together, at the edges of her core, but not touching. Not until they feel her nerves fade and her trust swell.

Only then do they reach forward, slow and steady and ready to stop at the slightest hint from Holly.

She doesn't stop them.

And Winter and Bucky are one and the same as they reach forward together.

He can feel the bond opening on his half, and _oh_.

 _Oh!_

It is a punch to the solar plexus, air wheezing past his lips, eyes open and awestruck as she slots into place. A missing piece, a perfect fit, _another half_. His mind _blanks_. Everything stills, everything is shut out but _her_ , for once he doesn't think about threats or entryways, doesn't remember the automatic list he makes of the various ways and things he can use to cause death in the people in a room.

Instead, Buck is stuck, frozen and blank and _astonished_ , utterly beyond words at what he has just discovered.

She can't feel it yet, doesn't _know_ , as Buck- Winter and Bucky- now does.

She's _theirs_.

A Fated Match.

 _His-_ _ **their**_ _-_ Fated Match. He can _feel_ it, and his hands quiver in her own for an instant before they firm.

When it is her turn, and Winter and Bucky have pulled themselves out of her mind, it's as easy as breathing to return the favor. They can _feel_ her as they lower the automatic protections in place around their mind. They can feel her wonder, and how careful she is as she presses into the opening Buck is offering to her.

She soothes over the scars in their mind, and they can _feel_ that she is aware of Bucky and Winter both, still separate for all that they are more integrated than they have ever been. She brushes against the both of them, just as welcoming and pleased to see the one of them as she is to see the other.

It calms something in Winter and Bucky _both_ to see- to _feel_ \- that it really doesn't _matter_ to her. That she appreciates and welcomes _both_ of them equally. That to her- to Holly- they are simply 'Buck', her Alpha, her Sentinel, her _pack_.

And when she reaches the very core of him, the part that Bucky and Winter both had acted to shield under so many layers of protection while in HYDRA's care, she stops. She allows them both the choice and chance to say 'no' just as they had offered to her.

And much as she had done- they do not take it, welcoming her entirely.


	7. Chapter 7

Holly comes back to herself, shaking with wonder and quiet with reverence.

She could not believe that she would _be_ so lucky. That she had found her Fated in Buck. She adored him, and he was amazing to her and for her. He was everything she _wanted_ in an Alpha, and she had felt blessed that he would agree to be her Alpha as it was, but for him to _also_ agree to be her Sentinel?

That he would turn out to be her _Fated Match_?

That was a situation worthy of Potter Luck.

How else was she to explain that she had found her Alpha Sentinel, the Fated Match for her, inside a HYDRA base, held prisoner much as she had been. A man born decades ago, that should be dead by all logical reasoning?

 _(much like she should be actually-)_

That Pierce would be in attendance to come and see her, that he did not recognize her on sight, and so would meet her eyes and hand her the tools she needed to pull Buck out of the base and get him to help?

It was times like _this_ that she blessed her luck, even as she knew the downswing of it would be _vicious_.

Her hands are tight around Buck's, and he's gripping her hands back just as tightly so she thinks that's okay.

She stares into wide blue eyes and her lips pull upwards, laughter bubbling in her chest. She is unable to stop herself as it pushes up her throat and past her lips. It is bright and warm and bubbly in a way she could only remember laughing near the beginning of her years at Hogwarts, before all the issues caught up, when her brothers- Ron, Fred, and George- had set to make her laugh. Her eyes squint closed with the force of it, her head thrown back as the sound of her joy fills the room.

When she finally gets in under control, she feels lighter than she has in literal _years_. Since before the war.

" _Oh_ ," she whispers breathless with _joy-wonder-laughter,_ "I am so glad it's _you_."

And when she looks at him, Buck is smiling back at her, soft and pleased, when he answers "I'm glad it was you too."

And Goddess, she feels so _warm_ at that confession, her smile reaching her eyes and pulling her lips wide for the first time in a long while.

This only leaves her one last thing to do.

"I have someone I want you to meet, Buck."

His eyes are still shining with joy and affection as he tilts his head curiously. Holly breathes, deep and even before she turns and reaches out, to her side. She feels foolish that she didn't see it earlier. Of course Batair had improved as she cared for Buck.

No wonder he had looked so bedraggled and _hurt_ for so long, while Buck was in the care of HYDRA.

She wonders absently what his spirit guide had looked like as she went though the war, and if the guide will still show signs of recovery like Batair.

"This," she breathes, sinking her hands into thick fur and _willing_ him visible for the first time in longer than Holly can remember, "is Batair, and he's been with me as long as I can remember."

She sees Buck still, eyes wide and staring, and then his lips pull up into a smile as he leans forward, offering his hand to Batair. She watches her spirit guide- the representation of _Buck_ , she knows now, sniff at the hand and then press his muzzle into the man's hands. Buck is gentle and pleased as he runs his hands- metal and flesh both- through the thick fur of her grim.

They are both awed as the solid black and silver-eyed grim that had been Holly's spirit guide bleeds into gorgeous colors. All spirit guides start off some mixed color arrangement of black, greys, and whites. They will stay that way, until the day their Sentinels and Guides meet their Fated Match fully _aware_ of what the other is to them.

Batair's solid coat of black changes before her eyes shimmering shades of silver, and different shades of black that are tinted with tones of pale greens, reds, and blues almost hidden in the black. The silver of his eyes gains a tint of blue, and he is a beautiful representation of Buck even if there are still signs of Buck's stay with HYDRA on Batair's body.

Her breath is caught with it, even as she watches their interaction with soft eyes, happy that the two of them approve of each other.

And when he finally stills, pulling his hands back to himself Holly wonders who _his_ spirit is, and what would represent _her_ as her grim represents him. She doesn't wonder for long, before he reaches to his own side and whispers to her-

"Her name is Boudica. She was with me even when HYDRA tried to scrape her out of me."

Holly's breath catches when the animal comes into view- soot and ash-greys and deep black- standing beside her Alpha Sentinel. A large and beautiful hippogryph with speckled wings, gorgeous despite how some of her feathers are crumbled and broken, ruffled and showing the slow recovery of Holly and her magic from the war. As she and Bucky watch, the soot-and-ash colors of before bleed away to reveal a mix of ruby, emerald, and obsidian. Black eyes change to bright emerald tinted black, the mostly grey feathers changing to obsidian tinted mostly with the shades of emerald to match her eyes. Still there are those same flashes of ruby tints on the underside of Boudica's wings.

She's gorgeous.

Holly smiles, pulling herself to her feet and keeping eye contact with the hippogryph. Once standing she bows easily, holding her eyes and utterly pleased when- after a moment- Boudica bows back. Only then does she approach, burying her fingers deep into the creature's feathers.

It figures the spirit guide that represents herself would be her animagus form.

 **LINEBREAK**

It is a truth that magic is a strange, and sentient gift that will act on the base desires of its host. That it will act to ensure its host's survival. It is also a truth that every Fated Pair is drawn to one another even before the bond is established, that they will be _pulled_ and sometimes guided by their spirits to one another.

Fated Pairs are not _always_ romantic in nature. They are the other half of a person, the thing they need the most to be complete. For Holly, that person takes the form of an Alpha Sentinel who can match and meet her half way, who can keep up with her, and who would-could- protect her the way she had never been before. For some their Fated Match is the family they need- the sister, the mother, the brother, the father.

Fated Matches are meant to be what one another _needed_ the most, and were not _guaranteed_ to be a romantic pairing as most fictional books would lead their readers to believe.

Love and completion are much more complicated than that.

For Holly and Buck, their pairing had started long before romance would be even a thought. It was not something they _remember_ , until after their bond had settled and strengthened, but Buck and Holly had met before.

Back during her childhood when she _desperately_ wished for someone who would love her, who would _protect_ her, who would stand beside her. When Bucky had been trapped in cold and ice, screaming so loudly in his own mind, even as HYDRA destroyed him.

They had _needed_ each other to hold them both steady, to keep one another together, until it was time for their actual meeting. Needed a grounding force in the insanity that was their lives.

As they strained for a rock in the upheaval of their lives, and Holly's magic had seized that idea and _run_ with it. Had latched onto the idea of a protector, someone to be with her no matter what, as whatever she needed, and it had _reached_ , following the ghost of a connection that was not yet present.

Holly would not remember until weeks after the bond with Buck settled, but she had been meeting him for _years_. Her magic had laid the pathway for them to travel, the path to each other. A little girl who needed a steady presence that would protect her where he could, and a man being pulled apart and put back together who needed a place to retreat that was not pain. Needed a reminder of _good things_ that HYDRA could not wipe from him.

Buck would never remember their encounters either, not until their bond settled over the ghost-bond that magic had created. Their bond would change as Holly grew, would expand and flourish in their subconscious, even before they met.

And suddenly, Holly and Buck both would understand _why_ they had trusted so easily. _Why_ their scents had been so comforting and familiar and _safe_. They had known each other for _years_ , even if they had not known. The lack of an actual bond ensuring they could not remember the exchanges magic allowed them to have in a conscious way.

And yet, Holly had still been there for Bucky when HYDRA froze him, when he was made to go out on missions he never wanted to take, when he woke up in a time and place so different than the last. She would help him enforce the walls between Bucky and Winter, help shield his memories, offer him warmth in the ice and silence in the screams.

At first it had simply been the joy of a cub that needed him, a tiny little fighter like Stevie, so willing to fight for those that needed it. An island in a stormy sea, something to protect and guide, a light in the dark. As she grew and changed, marched into _war_ and _death_ she gave him a _goal_ , a purpose. He would teach her, would make sure she made it out alive, even as he raged that Holly had to fight at all.

They would provide a quiet and understanding source of comfort when the world got to be too much for the both of them.

When Winter was made to protect Bucky's _self_ , surfacing to do the things Bucky never _would_ have, as Winter slaughtered all that stood before him. When Holly was made to stand at the head of an army, reaching out past the terror and pain of her own fighters, and the anger and agony of Death Eaters that stood against them, the endless sense of _loss_ that hung over all of them, to burrow her abilities into their minds and _force_ them to flee with terror or freeze before her army.

And then she found him, grown and bright but so world weary, a woman, saved him from his own personal hell, and oh he didn't know her yet, didn't _remember_ not really _,_ but he still recognized a sense of _comfort_ the urge to _protect_. Still saw a bond he would _kill_ to keep, a woman he could grow to love in time, given a chance now that she was not a cub that had held his head above the flood of blood on his hands, grown and tested in the trials of time and war.

And Holly. Holly who had followed the tug of a phantom-bond magic had established years before, that she had no conscious memory of after being taken.

Followed it to a man that had walked her through her first kill when she was eleven, sat beside her and told her the Dursleys were _wrong_ , that she was a bright and amazing, that she was _not_ a freak, and _someone_ would see it someday. That she would find a pack to love and cherish who loved and cherished her in turn. A man who had been there for every adventure she had at Hogwarts and into the war, who had taught her fighting maneuvers and strategies that she never remembered learning but stuck with her all the same. The voice that had been with her for every near-death experience she had, urging her to _fight_ , to come back. A man who carried the scent of woodsmoke and apples that her subconscious knew belonged to _warmth-safety-care_ even if she couldn't remember it yet.

Holly and Bucky, both now grown. Who had met each other, unaware of this pseudo-bond and all they had talked of over the years. Who had bonded with each other in the real world, learned to care for each other how it was needed over the months of healing and hunting together.

Holly and Buck who remembered once their bond settled, had all those years laid out before them now that a _real_ bond had combined with the one magic had laid the foundations for.

Who had _years_ of bonding added to the months of recovery and care.

Holly and Buck who _loved_ each other, had loved each other long before, though it had been in a different way, a way that had shifted and changed in the time they had bonded before the older bond had surfaced,though they had not yet shared that knowledge with each other.

 **LINEBREAK**

Holly and Buck were still reeling as they realized they had known each other for _years_. Life moved on however, and it only helped deepen their bond. Expanded on their trust for one another, added a complexity to their bond and life.

They were pack, they were _family_ and the _loved_ and so they adjusted.

Life moved on. Holly hunted, and Buck followed in her wake. Harmony and balance found in one another.

 **LINEBREAK**

There were good days and bad days and they learned to communicate with each other about them.

The bond between them as both Sentinel and Guide and Alpha and Omega only helped them. Still they helped establish a scale, and would only need to whisper a number and if it was good or bad to one another. One being the lower side of the scale and ten being the higher end.

Some days it would be a 'good ten' and it was a beautiful day. A day they felt closer to being 'normal' when the memories were quiet, and the scars didn't hurt. When triggers were not so close to the surface, pulling at their attentions.

Days that they could stop together and _enjoy_ life- go out for burgers together, candied apples, milkshakes and laughter. Days where Holly didn't think about hunting Death Eaters, and Buck didn't hear the echo of gunfire in his ears. Bask in sunlight and play in a pool or an ocean. Days where Buck would laugh and take her hands, teaching her to swim or dance, and _enjoy_ life. Days where she could return the favor, and take Buck out on her broom or on her animagus form, could listen to Buck laughing in the wind and whooping with adrenaline fueled _glee_ as she aimed them at the ground and _plummeted_. Where they could wrestle playfully in the kitchen or living room over whose turn it was to cook, or if doing the dishes with magic was _cheating_ when it was her turn.

There were 'bad tens'. Horrible days where dreams were night terrors that followed them into the waking world. Days that Buck would remember being Winter, would remember missions and blood. Where Holly remembered the war and the bodies of friends and children she had to bury.

Where they could both taste blood in their mouth, feel it drip from their hands. Days where the burning agony of the Chair or the Cruciatus Curse flashed over their nerves in phantom pains that were all too real. Days they could almost see the pile of corpses that haunted them- those they killed or those they couldn't save. Days where it was a struggle to get up at all, and food tasted like ash on their tongues.

Those were the days where they were all that anchored the other in the present, where their bond was most useful, where they would pull the other into the bond and surround them in affection and protection and care. Where the knowledge that there was _someone_ there to help the other out of the blackest of memories was proven over and over.

The days where Buck retreated into the Asset, because he didn't know how else to function that day, and it was easier. Easier to listen to a Handler he trusted to pull him out- to listen to Holly- easier to follow behind her and just _be._

Days that Holly retreated into the General. Where she was all liquid predator grace draped in shadows as she pulled on instincts and learned habits from her time as the Enclave's 'Most Wanted', where it was easier to hide than face the world.

Days that ranged somewhere in the middle a 'four' or 'five'.

Days that were not so much living night terrors, but still bad. Where the two would curl up on the newest safe house's couch, holding cups of hot chocolate with mini marshmallows, hot apple cider, or 'proper' tea. The days where they whispered to each other about what they remembered. Shared memories of the pain. Days they didn't shut down, but _dimmed_ , became tired and lethargic and whispered of deaths they couldn't stop. People they loved and lost, or even people they didn't know but remembered all the same. Days where they shared with one another, so they were not the only soul to _remember_ those faces and names.

Good middle days, that resulted in small quiet smiles and warm eyes. Days they weren't up to wrestling in the kitchen, but would curl into each other's sides and watch movies or series that Buck hadn't seen, or that Holly had been stopped from seeing. Days that they curled on the couch, backs to opposite arms and feet in one another's laps, reading books. Days they were willing to go out and try the local diners or the random hole-in-the-wall place they only found because they liked to scope out their surroundings.

There were days that things happened, and triggered a spiral into a _bad day_. Days they couldn't see what was coming, but still they weathered them together. The days that Buck saw something that triggered a memory, something that _hurt_ all sharp and jagged edges. When Holly saw a kid, and he or she looked like the third year she'd buried with her bare hands, the second year she hadn't saved on time, the fourth year who _insisted_ they were old enough to fight.

The week that Buck asked Holly to take him to the Smithsonian and looked at the exhibit that carried Stevie's history on the wall, _(It was wrong and right and missing so much and Buck hated and loved it and it_ _ **hurt**_ _)_ that mentioned _him_ as Stevie's best friend and a war hero. That was how he found out about the Plane, and what had happened to Steve after-

After.

Where he tracked down the history of his friends with Holly's help, about how they lived.

How they died.

The week he found out about Peggy and that she was _alive,_ white haired and still gorgeous as always, but she had Alzheimer's Disease, and she was _forgetting_. He went to see her anyway, and there were tears and laughter pain and catharsis.

Holly whispering that the goblins had a potion that could _stop_ her memory loss. She may never regain all of what she lost, but Holly could provide her the tools to help. To bring back her more _powerful_ memories, the ones Peggy had an emotional attachment to, and prevent the disease from spreading or coming back to take the memories again.

Buck had cried that week, for the first time in longer than he remembered, his face buried in Holly's neck and breathing in great heaving breaths of her sadness-lilies and sandalwood-but he had laughed too.

When Holly had taken Peggy from the halls of her care center and provided the aid she had promised. When Buck had watched it _work_ , as memories she hadn't remembered when he mentioned them on his first visit became clearer.

 **LINEBREAK**

And elsewhere, as Holly and Buck work their way across the world, hunting enemies and memories alike, putting each other together the world turns.

The Norns weave brilliant colors into their tapestries, laughing together because Holly Lilliana Potter was never supposed to meet James Buchanan Barnes. They were a Fated Pair, pulled together but always just out of step with each other. Lost to time, separate worlds and each manipulated by men in power for the _greater good._

She was never supposed to be captured by HYDRA for any length of time, never meant to be given the chance to get close enough to her Alpha Sentinel that she would be able to find him.

But a different choice was made, Vernon Dursley overhearing a conversation he shouldn't have, and offering the HYDRA agents his niece, and suddenly everything _shifts._

The ripple spreads ever outward, changing _everything_ in its wake. The Potter family, once again interfering with what would be, and making it _different_. Once again being a force of _change_ , unbending to the whims of others.

In the wizarding world Holly's army picks up the pieces. They work to put the Ministry back together, reworking it from the ground up. They refuse to let what their General had suffered and lost be in vain, and if that means burning everything down to rebuild in ashes they _will_. If that means reworking creature laws that have been in effect since before their grandparents' time then _so be it_. If that means an overhaul of Hogwarts curriculum _it will be done_.

They had fought and _bled_ and _died_ to live in a free world. The adults had run, had stuck their heads in the sand. They had handed all rights to how the world would be After over to those who had fought, bled and died for it. Handed those rights over to the children who had grown so quickly in wartime and would see the change come alive. Ensure that everything they bled for would be _worth_ it.

Holly Potter had lit the flames, died for them, and the Norns laugh because _this_ will be the flame that marks the beginning of a golden age for wizardkind.

Somewhere over the ocean, an infiltrated organization finds a man who should be dead. Phil Coulson stands guard, though he knows it not. The director's one good eye, randomly showing up to check in on his childhood hero, popping in at all hours in his every free moment, and none of the HYDRA agents _dare_ to make a move when Coulson is there, watching.

None dare to slip something dangerous into the IV lines, or fudge a dose, lie about what has happened. They know Coulson would not rest until he found the truth of it- and he would uncover HYDRA, they know.

It is not worth it, the traitors think, ' _we'll wait'_ they whisper among themselves in the shadows.

And the Norns smile together, as they watch what will come of Holly Lilliana Potter's presence in this situation, what will become of Steven Grant Rogers. The ripple spreads further.

All the way to a god prince who finds himself drifting in the dark of the Void.

Loki screams, and screams, a mad god laughing in the depths of space, reverberating in the prince's mind. Thanos is there, laughing and whispering, _digging_ his way into the Silvertongue's thoughts. Loki hides himself away, behind the sick whispers of the mind-stone that have corrupted him so, holding on only thanks to the few prayers mortals whisper on Midgard.

The Norns mourn that they could not stop this, but again Holly Potter brings change in her footsteps, and this will be a much better future for Loki and his children that Odin has scattered across the realms.

It will be a better future for many who would otherwise have ended up alive, but broken in many ways.

Better for likes of Tony Stark, who even now wakes with Yinsen's name on his lips and worry in his heart for his wife-to-be, for Bruce Banner who knows only fear and _running_ , testing plants, herbs, and flowers hoping for a miracle even surrounded by death, famine, and disease on all sides, as he wanders from jungle to forest, tribe to tribe. Better for a team that would have shattered apart in time, and now will find itself forged in adamantium and vibranium both.

The Norns will not interfere, only weaving the threads of life as they are made, but in this case….in this case they must laugh and dance around their tapestry.

The colors are _so_ very bright, where before they had faded into greys and blacks.

Holly Lilliana Potter has once again become a lynchpin for change and fate, though this time she will be rewarded so much _more_ for her efforts.


	8. Chapter 8

Holly finds herself once again standing in New York.

This time is not on the tail of Death Eaters, nor to track down a moving exhibit with answers Buck needs to have. Not to visit Peggy- who is doing so much better mentally than she had been. No- this time it is because Bucky had asked to see Brooklyn again, had wanted to see his old home, ready to face the change of it all.

A little over a year of hunting together for Death Eaters, their numbers whittled down to almost nothing, bonding over good and bad days, their relationship and bonds deepening and strengthening…

When Buck has asked if she would mind stopping the hunt to take him down to Brooklyn, told her he was ready, how could she do anything else?

And so here she stands, on Ellis Island, staring up at the Statue of Liberty with a wide smile on her face. She had asked if Buck would mind making a pit stop in a few places before they went to Brooklyn. Asked to see the Statue, Times Square, and Central Park.

Buck had agreed with a laugh, the scent of woodsmoke, chocolate, and cherries in the air, teasing that no trip to New York was complete unless the Lady was seen, Times Square visited, and Central Park walked around. That they were all familiar sights to Buck himself was a comfort, Holly knew. _(And it may have had something to do with why she asked to see them at all, even though she really did want to see them.)_

Still, she was so very excited.

Traveling for travelings sake was not something she had ever done. Playing the tourist was something new, and Holly was looking forward to Buck's stories of home, even if would be decades later and the area likely different. She wanted to hear about them anyway, listen as he spoke of his family. As he told her of the store his Ma liked best, the ones that had the best prices for the Depression, as he walked her towards the places he liked to visit, the place that had the best view of the river.

She wanted to laugh as he shared stories about Stevie, how it was 'easier to pick out the alleys the punk _hadn't_ gotten into a fight in'.

She wanted to know _Buck's_ New York.

That he had stories to share about the Statue, Park and Square was only icing on the cake.

She made him promise that they would come see the Ball drop together this New Years.

Holly should have known, with how pleasantly her luck had been treating her, that _something_ would happen to derail the entire visit.

 **LINEBREAK**

Holly is standing in Times Square when the noise catches her attention, a noise she had learned to pay close attention to.

Footsteps. Not something she would have paid the slightest notice to, _especially_ in the middle of Times Square, except they're out of step, out of synch, with _everyone else._

The footsteps are quick, panicked, _determined_ , the kind you hear when someone is running _from_ someone else. More than that- Holly can hear the multiple sets of feet that are _chasing_. Her entire childhood had been spent listening to that sound, listening to 'Holly Hunting'. Her entire school career had been spent keeping an ear out for determined fans looking to corner her. Her entire time on the warfront had been spent hoping to _avoid_ that sound, and then later luring enemies in with the Taboo and _avoiding_ them while she picked them off.

Holly knew the sound of someone being chased, of someone _running_.

And she's already stopped, already turning to see what's happened. Buck is right beside her, his arm around her waist, and he turns with her, both of them searching the area with predatory eyes.

Holly has her eyes on the multiple black suits rushing from various directions, her instinct still to find the ones chasing first, so that she can figure out who she needs to stop. Buck's eyes had gone for the person being chased, she knew, habit built from years of looking after a 'stupid punk' still there even after all his time with HYDRA, especially with the mental help Holly had gotten him. She feels the moment his breath _stops_ , scents the staggering swell of _shock_ in the mint that floods her nose enough to burn with it, is aware of the aborted move to step _back_ that her Alpha makes even as he also moves to rush _forward._ She can hear the absolutely _agonized_ noise that rips from his throat and Holly doesn't even think.

Her eyes rip away from the suits she'd been tracking- they were circling someone, trying to corner their target- and jerk like a stop motion glitch over to the one being chased, the one that Buck had been looking for.

Her breath catches.

The sun glints off blond hair, even as the man stumbles to an unsteady jog. Broad shoulders, long legs, and _very_ familiar features. Features she had last seen on a wall in a museum. From the way her Sentinel is reacting- she's willing to bet what he smells is extremely recognizable. She can tell that next instant that Buck does- _something_ because the man's head snaps around, blue eyes wide and desperate hope and pained disbelief paint themselves all over his expression.

His lips are forming a name and she knows _exactly_ which one because the Alpha at her side throws himself forward, barrelling through the crowd of people that stand in between them. Luckily, they quickly move out of the way and Holly kicks herself into gear because there is no way this situation ends without people intent on keeping that man a _secret._

A secret to be enforced by men in suits and official looking papers that detail exactly what your government will do to you if you do not _comply._ The kind of papers meant for someone who is _different_ , who is _dangerous_ , who is so much _more_ than normal. A tool to be used, an asset to be utilized, a figure to be guided ' _for the greater good_ '. Holly _knows_ if they get to the blond Alpha, he will be placed somewhere 'safe' and locked away, that she will have trouble finding him again.

Holly cannot allow it to happen. Even if it turns out to be some sort of clone, or man with memories he shouldn't have, her Alpha's reaction had been too _base_ , too _instinctive_. As far as she can tell, this man _is_ her Buck's Stevie, and so Holly will react appropriately to the situation. Against _any_ interference. She _cannot_ let Steve- clone, or some kind of miracle or no- be taken in to be some kind of asset. Not like Buck had been. Not like she had been. Not only does that sit wrong with Holly, but it would _devastate_ Buck and Holly would burn the world before she allowed that to happen to her Alpha Sentinel ever again.

Buck is clinging to the blond, inhaling steadily to take in his scent, and she can see Steve has done the same, burying his nose into her Alpha's neck. The both of them in their own world, frozen in time as they are reunited after they both thought the other dead. Great heaving breaths that sound almost like sobs, as they pull in each other's scents and they make these soft noises that rip and tug at her Omega instincts to nurture and protect her pack. She can see the way the two of them are nuzzling, scent marking each other, and still her eyes track the approach of a line of suited men.

If the two of them will be occupied with a reunion long overdue and equally unlikely, then Holly will be their shield in this vulnerable moment. She snarls low and angry, eyes picking out each and every agent trying to blend into the crowd. It's easy to shift her position, put herself between her Alphas- because this is Buck's _family_ , his pack, and that makes Stevie _hers_ too even if he doesn't know it-and the men.

She can see them trying to spread out in the crowd, trying to corner all three of them.

Holly _will not_ allow it.

It is a blessing that 'mutants' are becoming so well known, especially in the bigger cities. It's so _easy_ to hide magic under the label of 'mutant'. Strangers are willing to hide, protect and even lie for her at the show of abilities beyond the norm. There are mutant protection rings everywhere. Sympathizers and good Samaritans. There are already people giving lingering and dawning looks at the two men holding tightly to one another and whispering apologies and reassurances along with _why, how, Stevie, Bucky,_ and Holly knows that if this comes down to a fight, they'll be on _their_ side.

She strides closer to the Alphas, eyes narrowed in on the obvious leader of the group, who is staring _right_ at her. She peels her lips back in a snarl, every bit of her body language screaming _protective_ , as she lays her hands on the men's arms.

She hisses a warning to Buck, a quick- " _Porting_ "- in his ear and then she's apparating in a sharp _crack_ of sound, making sure to catch the single eye of the black man that breaks through the line of people. Her lips curve in a feral grin. Her eyes are absolutely glowing with her power, a warning to this man.

 _Ours. Not_ _ **yours.**_

Steve staggers when they land behind the wards of their newest safe house, clearly not expecting it, but he doesn't fall. Buck keeps him standing. Holly allows them both this moment, shielded and uninterrupted, as she moves quickly around the house, plans made and discarded as quickly as breathing. The first thing she does is work to add the other Alpha to the wards, so that he can actually see where he is, and not just a blank void. Not completely, just in case, but enough to 'visit' their safehouse.

She'd need to get Steve his own duffle- perhaps red or a lighter blue then Buck's- and she'd have to shop for him. Her eyes flashed over the other Alpha. He was taller and broader than her Buck, sharing Buck's clothes while it might work in a pinch, would not be comfortable or fit properly.

 _(Holly was_ _ **not**_ _the Dursleys she would_ _ **not**_ _make Steve wear someone else's things when she had the means to help him.)_ She made a note to visit Goldclaw again. Steve would need papers an ironclad identity.

Forcibly shoving that issue back to deal with later, Holly allowed herself a second to calm herself. Then she attuned her senses to her Sentinel and his newly found packmate. For the moment she could hear his stomach growling, and she was certain that Steve ate like Buck did- in large quantities. She moved into the kitchen, digging through the pantry and fridge, pulling out the ingredients for burgers and home-fries. If the maybe-Steve tried anything her wards would lock him down if she or Bucky didn't do it first. _(because she had only allowed him 'visiting' privileges, not added him entirely)_

She washed her hands, and then set out to season the meat, keeping an ear, and her magical senses on the Alphas sharing her living room, but politely _not_ listening closely to their conversation. She'd have to cook like she was feeding the Dursley family times two- maybe two and a half. Her Alphas' metabolisms would need it, and Lord knew the last time Steve had eaten anything at all. Perhaps that normally would have meant cooking light foods, but the serum was a healing miracle and it needed the fuel to work, so she knew she wouldn't make the blonde sick on her food in this case.

By the time she had moved on to letting the meat sit for a bit, washing and cutting potatoes instead, she heard the shuffling of feet coming her way. She turned her head over her shoulder, easily continuing the rhythmic movements of cutting the potatoes up evenly, even as she tracked Buck leading Steve in by the hand.

She smiled at the both of them.

"Holly, this is Steve Rogers, and he's family." Buck's hand was tight on Steve's shoulder as he introduced them "And Stevie, this is my Omega Guide, my Fated Match,- she took care of me when I couldn't take care of myself- Holly Potter."

Holly kept smiling as she met Steve's grateful eyes. She washed her hands quickly and then stepped closer. "I've heard so very much about you, Steve. I'm really glad I got to meet you- I didn't think I would get the chance."

Steve's hands lift, reaching for her, and Holly doesn't tense, even as she tracks his hands. She can take care of herself, if it's needed. She also trusts that Buck _would_ react on her behalf, even if it _is_ Steve, should she fail to react in time anyway. She feels one hand settle on her shoulder while the other settled over the back of her neck, large and warm.

There's a brush over her shields, tentative, yet firm but she is careful as she peels her shields down. She knows that Steve is an Alpha Guide, and the brush against her shields is _him_. It's a polite way of asking to be let into another Guide's shields, to share in surface emotions. Still, both their minds are scarred with the echoes of war.

The corners of her lips lift, because history _certainly_ never mentioned that the legendary _Captain America_ was a _Guide._ Buck had though. He'd scoffed at and been furious with historians about it by turns. He'd also looked her dead in the eye and told her Steve would have _rubbed_ that fact in _everyone's_ face because ' _he was a little_ shit, _Holly, don't ever let anyone tell you different._ '

There's an ache in her chest, at the thought of this man's history that has placed him on a pedestal of Truth, Justice and the American Way that she doubts he will even recognize. Much like her own was in the ten years in which she slept beneath the cupboard under the stairs and worked as the Dursleys' house-elf. Much like the Enclaves had placed _her_ before she had even had a glimmer of a thought that magic might be real.

Holly doesn't usually allow others into those shields, very aware- and experienced- in exactly how to weaponize that ability, how to _hurt_ with it. Still- for Buck, for this man who might just be her Buck's _Steve_ , she will allow it. And should this man turn out to be a fake? Turn out to be a man trying to _hurt_ them, well. Holly had fought _war_ , learned to use her skills in fire and blood, and that was _before_ she'd had a Sentinel to anchor her down. By letting him into her surface shields, he was allowing _her_ the same access to _him._

She'd always been very, _very_ Slytherin about protecting what was hers.

She'd deal with it _then_ , if it turned out to be a problem.

Until it happened though, she'd treat this soldier like he _was_ Steve, alive and well where he shouldn't be. She'd seen stranger things happen before.

And as her shields drop, she sways for a moment under the storm of emotions the lighter haired Alpha is allowing her to feel.

He is…

This is something that could not be faked. Not so closely, not between two Guides behind one another's shields. This man _believes_ he is Steve, is **so** thankful and _awed-pained-joyful-overwhelmed-LOVE_ and it's such a tangle of entwined sentiments that even Holly is having trouble peeling them all apart to identify them.

She smiles at him pulls up every bit of _welcome-happiness-awe-joy_ that she can, so that he can feel. She knows he senses the protectiveness and wary worry in her, but she can sense his _understanding,_ how _grateful_ he is that someone is looking after Bucky, and more than anything else, she thinks _that_ is what helps convince her that this might just be the actual Steve Rogers.

So, she allows the grip the Alpha has on her shoulder and neck, and then reaches up to wrap her arms over his shoulders. She is the first to initiate a scent marking, burying her nose into Steves neck and pulling in the scent of cedarwood and old books, nuzzling against him. She feels him still for a moment, and then his grip on her shoulder and neck both tightens just a bit, not painful but _firm. Grounding_. She feels the moment his nose buries itself into her neck, feels how he nuzzles her back, and she relaxes further into the Alpha. She remains where she is for a moment, stretched on her tiptoes, nose buried in Steve's shoulder, and then she shifts, rubbing her cheek against first one cheek and then the other.

She purrs, a soft and subtle thing, feeling how touched and awestruck Steve is that she would have taken Buck at his word, and offered Steve a place with them. Pressed into the Alpha as she is, she can feel the minute vibrations in his chest signaling his own purring, and it soothes her further. She is still wary, still cautious, but she is skilled enough, has seen the impossible happen before, and trusts in her instincts and the feel of Steve's emotions enough to extend a hand in trust. She also trust in Bucky's instincts and skills, trained into him as the Winter Soldier and over war. If he had doubted even the smallest amount, he would not have acted the way he had, Steve's face or no. If he had doubted Steves's face would have only made him _furious_.

Steve will not have a second chance at it.

She is the first to pull backwards, keeping her hands on his arms, just above the bend of his elbow, and he releases his hold on her shoulder and neck, moving instead to reach up and grip her own arm as it holds onto his. She smiles at him before looking over at Buck- the scents of woodsmoke, chocolate, and cherries flood the room alongside the rumbling bass of his purr. Her Alpha is so pleased he's vibrating with it, and Holly's eyes soften, even as she monitors the open access she has behind Steve's shields for anything out of place.

"What's ' _porting?_ " Steve's voice is curious, and there's no tell-tale spike in his emotions or scents when he asks. Holly had expected the question, knowing that Steve had a perfected super soldier serum in him and thus his already powerful senses had been even _more_ advanced.

"It's a kind of teleporting," Holly explained, carefully avoiding the word 'magic' until she can get Steve permission to know about it- and thus prevent any triggers for breaking the statute. "Uncomfortable, but manageable for things like escaping black suits."

"Is it anything like the squad that helped Buck and I with the mission before our last?"

Holly tilts her head, blinking at the blond. "What was your mission then?"

"Liberate a HYDRA base. Mrs Potter was a right menace with her weapon of choice for that mission, knocked out anyone she set her eyes on really. One of our better Special Agents from the agency the Commandos borrowed them from. You...actually have her cheekbones. How are you related to her? Bucky said your last name was Potter?"

And Holly's breath catches, because she had _not_ expected _that_.

Buck never really talked about the Commandos, and their missions in detail. He talked about the _people_ , about downtime between missions, laughter and teasing, forming a war pack. He talked about the Special Forces team they borrowed from, the one he said was from her Enclaves, but confided that he didn't much remember them. Told her that the Special Forces team PHOENIX was really only called in when they were going to run into Grindelwald forces, and he didn't have too many memories of them. Not because they weren't present, but rather that they held themselves somewhat apart from the Commandos, and Buck didn't have the emotional attachment needed to really _recall_ the memories of them thanks to the wipes. The mind healers had helped him recall much of his lost memories, but some were still missing. Apparently that had been a part of them.

"What was her full name?" her own voice sounds far away to her ears, and Holly cannot _believe_ what she's hearing.

"Mrs Dorea Potter-Black. She told me to call her Dorea, but it never felt right, to call a woman that regal anything but Mrs."

Holly needs to sit down.

Steve and Buck must both sense her emotional upheaval, because both of them have one of her arms and are easing her back onto the couch, settling on either side of her.

"She was…" Holly swallows hard. "Dorea Potter-Black was my grandmother."

Steve jerks back like she's punched him, and his horrified shock crashes over her like a wave. "Grandmother?!"

And oh.

 _Oh_.

That's not good. She can feel Steve going into shock, can feel his hands tremor against her arm. It jolts her out of her own spiral, gives her something to focus on, something to care for- which soothes her inner Omega and Guide both. She's already behind Steve's shields so it's rather easy to project a sense of _calm-reassurance-steadiness_ from her half of the connection. She doesn't project it behind his shields, doesn't force the emotion to overwhelm and smother, instead pressing against the border between their minds, _offering_ him an anchor.

He takes it. Buck glances at her, and Holly gives the slightest of nods. Her Alpha shifts, standing and quickly settling his bulk beside Steve and placing a grounding hand on his back. When his swirling feelings have settled, blanketed in the calm she has provided, and the comfort of a packmate's touch, she asks softly "Steve?"

"How can she be your _grandmother?_ "

And Holly can _feel_ his terror under her offered calm, his dawning horrified understanding, his denial, sharp and bitter and _agonized_. She makes a choked noise in response, upping the level of calm she is offering, pulling on her stores of steady resolve and determination.

"She was my father's mother, Steve."

"No- _no_." And she can _feel_ that Steve already understands what he isn't saying, can _feel_ that he doesn't _want_ to acknowledge something specific. A choked moan, tears welling in blue eyes and Steve gasps like it _hurts_ -

"I had a _date_."

And-

And suddenly, _suddenly_ , Holly _understands_.

She remembers the stories Peggy shared with her, how pained her eyes had been when Peggy told her that Steve had promised her a dance, the Saturday of the following week after that day, when he'd crashed. And she understands. She makes one of those brilliant leaps of insight that had seen her through the war.

She remembers that Buck had been stored in cryo-freeze chambers when not awake. That it had _worked_ even though his serum had been incomplete, and if that had worked…

If that had worked _why wouldn't it work with Steve_. Why _wouldn't_ a natural cryo-freeze chamber like the antarctic work on a fully functioning serum? And Steve had _seen_ New York before she'd taken him from the Square, but-

But, if he had only just woken up...if that had been his first steps into the world since _1945_ …

For him- for Steve- _yesterday_ had been February 11, 1945.

" _Oh_ ," she breathes it like a moan. "Oh no, oh no, _Steve,_ I'm so sorry. It's…"

She wants to spare him this, wants to lie, but she can't. Steve Rogers is anything but stupid, he has already _noticed_ , he's only focusing on everything that isn't what's _wrong._ She can already feel that he _knows_ that it has been a long time since he stepped foot in New York, that he is _aware_ everything is different from what he knows. And she can feel that he _doesn't want_ her to lie to him, even as he wants to relish in his denial.

"It's April 1st, 2011- You've been asleep for almost seventy years." Her words are a whisper, scraped from her suddenly dry throat, and Steve-

Steve stops. The man's body stiffens, pulled taught, his lips part and he makes a noise, before his breath stutters. Behind him, Buck goes cold. The emotion vanishes from his face and Holly wretches her gaze away from him, back to Steve. The Guide's shoulders curl in as he crumples into himself as he _moans_ like she's stabbed him through his chest.

You can't fake that sort of _grief_ , that kind of agony. You especially can't fake that kind of response to a Guide as experienced as Holly, who sat behind your shields.

And _damn it_ this **is** her Alpha's Stevie and he's in _agony_ , and Holly wants to _murder_ something.

She and Buck move at the same time, folding around the blond as he hunches over himself, making these wordless expressions of grief. They nuzzle, and purr, not because they are happy, but in order to comfort a packmate whose world is falling out from under his feet.

 **LINEBREAK**

The first thing that Holly does once Steve settles a bit, is inform him she's taking him to Gringotts.

She needs to get Steve set up with papers, and she can have the goblins discreetly check his blood. She _believes_ he is Steve Rogers now, having tasted his grief and agony over the date, over the time past, but she will still make _sure_. On top of that she can set up appointments with Steeljaw and his team of mind healers for the Alpha. She could even arrange for some pensieve memories to be shared with him.

He's missing decades worth of history, and Holly _cannot_ let him be vulnerable like that. Ignorance will be taken advantage of, and used- Holly knows this, has experienced it- and Holly _will not_ allow it.

Steve is still behind her shields, and Holly doesn't plan to force him out right now. She can feel him clinging to her projected calm and reassurance, can feel him using it to work through the initial burst of feelings and knowledge.

He's not okay, but he's leaning into them both, allowing them to support him, and that's good. Holly can work with that. Can use it to get him the tools he needs to _be_ okay, in the end.

He is her packmate, and while she trusts in the _idea_ of him, she does not share the trust she has with Buck. Not yet. She has marked him as ' _one of hers'_ and been marked in return but that _bond_ is not there. The _intent_ that is needed to make the mark a permanent claim is absent for the both of them. What had been done instead, between the both of them, was a temporary mark, a sort of ' _pending'_. It was a mark used when a pack member wanted someone new brought in, but the other members of the pack didn't know the new guy. He would be marked by the other members in the pack, saying they were _willing_ to give the new member a chance, that they would treat one another _as_ pack while the trust and bond was built up between the unknown and the other pack members.

Maybe one day, she would have it, that trust and bond that would allow her to initiate a full and true pack bond, but for now she will look after him as pack anyway. If that means using her connections to get him on his own feet, she will. If in the process she bonds with him, develops that deep unabiding sense of trust she has with Buck with Steve then she will. And she will welcome him entirely.

She takes Steve by the wrist and allows Buck to wrap his arm around her waist. She can't use their portkey, with Steve not being keyed in, so she'll have to do this the slower way. If she can get them to the American Gringotts, she can use their floo system to get to the Britain Branch and get everything she needed set up.

Her life is _ridiculous_. Steeljaw was never going to let her live this down. One super soldier back from the dead is one thing, _two_ in a year? That was something else.

Holly grumbles for a moment, standing in the Apparation zone for New York's alley. Then she grabs ahold of her boys, and sets off at a steady pace for the Gringotts branch. The quicker this was done, the happier she'd be. She ignored how Buck was hovering over both of them, radiating a vicious kind of protective _daring_ , at any and everyone they happened to pass.

She nodded politely at the warriors protecting the entrance, and then continued up the stairs. Steve followed in her footsteps, eyes glazed and drifting. She frowned at the sight of it. Still she pulled her eyes away and walked over to the nearest Teller, waiting for the goblin to finish his work and acknowledge her presence.

As soon as she has the goblin's attention, she informs him she needs to get the three of them transport to Britain's branch. She knows she has been recognized when the goblin straightens and moves to complete her task with the speed goblins only afford those they like.

And soon enough she finds herself staggering out of a fireplace, a firm hand stopping her from crashing to the floor. Steve releases her the moment he's certain she's on her feet, and Holly flashes a smile at the man before she strides towards Goldclaw.

The Teller looks up at her as soon as she approaches- another sign of respect- and then he sighs, reluctant fondness in his rough tones. "What have you done now, Miss Potter?"

Holly flashes an embarrassed grin before she answers, a sliver of mischief in her voice.

"I just _had_ to complete my super soldier set. I'm going to need to see Steeljaw for him, as well as to run his blood through the system just in case he has any vaults or inheritances we don't know about."

She sees the flash of understanding in Goldclaw's eyes even as he rumbles an exasperated, "Only you, Miss Potter. Give me a moment to inform Steeljaw of your presence."

"Of course," she easily agrees, dipping her head in a bow.

It only takes a few moments before Goldclaw is back, and ushering the lot of them back towards the healing chamber. Holly's a little mad that she is _recognizing_ the way to the healing chamber at all. It was supposed to be almost impossible to pick out a path in the winding maze of Gringotts unless you were a goblin with their stone-sense and yet…

She knocks politely on the door, waiting until Steeljaw calls for them to enter the room. She steps in first with the soldiers on her heels and meets Steeljaw's eyes as soon as she clears the door.

Steeljaw is staring at her, face blank and eyes conveying the deadpan ' _really?'_ without him ever needing to say a word.

Holly meets his eyes and refuses to fidget the way she _wants_ to in the face of it, only allowing a hint of sheepish ' _what can you do?'_ to reflect in her eyes.

Steeljaw sighs, grudgingly fond and entirely exasperated. "Come, Lady Potter. I shall see to your newest soldier."

"Thank you, Healer Steeljaw. Steve?" She turns to the blond who still looks like a stiff breeze might blow him over despite his muscular frame. "Come on big guy. This won't hurt much at all." She reaches for him, and Steve takes a moment but he reaches back.

 **LINEBREAK**

Holly breathes a sigh of relief when Steeljaw brings her the results.

This man _is_ Steven Grant Rogers, and there is no sign of him being a clone of some kind, nor has his mind or memories been altered as far as the goblin healers can tell. Holly sets aside the brewing plans to raze whoever would have _dared_ hurt her Alpha- hurt Buck with a plot to use a dead pack mate- like that, and allows that little bit of tension on her to relax. It is intensely comforting to have a confirmation that this _is_ her Alpha's packmate, beyond what Buck's senses are telling him.

Blood cannot lie. Not with goblin-made magical tests.

Holly begins making plans to take Steve and Buck to one of her smaller homes, behind the protection of the Potter or the Black wards. They need time to settle- all three of them. And she can provide that for all of them. She leans into Steve for a moment, offering a steady support, and brushes a hand over his shoulder, squeezing it in comfort before she moves to do the same for Bucky.

Once she has them both settled in the furs lining one of the recovery beds, she eases her way over to Steeljaw. She needs to set up Mind Healers for Steve. She's not fool enough to think he's _not_ going to need them- not after the bombshell she had just dropped on him, and not after near seventy years on ice. If she can set up pensieve sessions so that he can have some history education as well, all the better. She makes a note to twist the situation in Times Square to their benefit as well.

A Steve Rogers look alike in the middle of Times Square being chased by a horde of black suits? It was a blessing that everything had happened _today_. April first. April _Fools_.

If she could get word out, set the knowledge into the social media sites, whisper in the right ears…well.

Of course Steve Rogers wasn't _actually_ in New York. _Everyone_ knew he went down with that plane. It was April Fools. Just a joke, a prank, a _game._ Nothing to see here.

And it would allow the three of them more time. To adjust to each other, and the world around them.

Once she's done talking to Steeljaw of what she needs, and what events to set in motion, she moves back over towards the pile of fur and Alphas, wiggling her way into the tangle of limbs, and settling beside them both. It's easy to run her hands through their hair, breathing in apple-woodsmoke and cedarwood-and-old books.

She's going to need to talk to Peggy about Steve, lest the woman murder her with a rusty spoon- no matter her age. That can come later though. Holly _really_ didn't think that Steve would be able to handle that right then.

 **LINEBREAK**

Holly purrs, liquid and low. It's a noise of comfort rather than pleasure as she curls deeper into Steve's chest. This has been a familiar past time for the last week since she'd brought the Alphas behind Black family wards in Italy.

The three of them had built a nest of pillows and blankets in the floor of the master suite and curled together there. Buck hadn't wanted to leave Steve, and Steve was still emotionally shook, and in need of the reassurance of skin privileges- the right to touch and be touched by pack. There was _no way_ she was leaving her Alpha, and potential- near guaranteed, Holly knew- packmate to suffer this upheaval alone.

If that meant curling between the two men, snuggling between them, purring deeply and keeping Steve and Buck both anchored behind her shields then she _would_.

No question.

This first week behind Black wards, hidden away in the middle of Italy's magical district with a direct link to Steeljaw and his mind healers via the Italian magical bank had been...bracing.

It was quite a shock to her system when she realized that Steve was spiralling into a depression. It wasn't that she didn't _expect_ that, Steve having just discovered that most of his friends- who to him, he had seen just a few weeks before- were either in their sixties, seventies, or dead. It was that he was spiraling so _hard_ and _fast_ that he was dragging her _with him_.

He was behind her shields, connected to her on an emotional level, and she could _feel_ that was helping him cope. But as soon as he realized that he was yanking her down with him- that his bout of depression was pulling her into his spiral it was so powerful- he tried to pull back. To retreat from her shields and close his own, even though she _knew_ that the quasi-bond between them was helping him find his feet.

Holly was _not_ having it. She refused to allow Steve to retreat the way he had wanted, and refused to let him shut her out. She'd instead opened herself to Buck, opened the connection between them as Guide and Sentinel, allowing him to anchor her as she anchored Steve.

Hence why she was now curled up between the two Alphas, purring as loudly as she was able, steady and low. It was a verbal confirmation to both Alphas that they were _safe_ , that they were okay- or were going to be. She refused to allow for anything else.

Buck snuggled into her back, burying his nose into her shoulder, and breathing deep even in sleep. She tried not to melt and smile stupidly at the wall when he rumbled a purr at her scent even in sleep. Steve on the other hand was curled up around her like he wanted to make himself small and she had gotten in the way. His arm was over her waist and gripping Buck's hip, the blond's chin resting on the crown of her head even as she listened to his heart at her ear.

Holly _ached_ for him.

He'd lost so much.

She nuzzled his chest, wanting to shield him away from the world, as well as storm outside and _fight_ something.

He was so much better than the start of this week, even as he was still in a very bad place. Holly wished she could just set fire to his problems and see them left in ashes for him, fight them until they were gone, but-

Well, that never worked. Just like it hadn't for Buck. And just like with Buck, Holly would help Steve cope, help him heal. And when he was more steady, when he didn't feel so horrible, she would bring him to see Peggy, who remembered him so well now thanks to some magical help.

The man owed her a dance after all, and it was rude to keep a lady waiting.


End file.
